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CLASSICAL 

ENGLISH POETRY, 



FOR THE 



USE OF SCHOOLS, 

AND YOUNG PERSONS IN GENERAL. 



A NEW EDITION, 
REVISED AND IMPROVED, 

By WILLIAM MAVOR, LL.D. 




LONDON: 

PRINTED FOB 

LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN AND GREEN 

PATERNOSTEH-BOW. 

1827. 



Price 5s* Sd, hound. 






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ADVERTISEMENT 

TO THE 

FIRST EDITION, 



Although there have been two or three partial Selections 
of English Poetry, there is still wanting an appropriate and 
comprehensive volume for the use of Schools, calculated to 
infuse into young persons a taste for the various beauties of 
poetical composition. 

The present offering to youth of both sexes, is a v/reath of 
flowers, culled from many a garden. In splendour of colour- 
ing, in sweetness of perfume, and in delicacy of structure, 
they must of course diiffer, according to the genius and the 
«oil'that originally produced them ; but they are all innoxious, 
and their sources warrant them to possess merit of the high- 
est estimation. 

The Poems in this volume are generally short, in order to 
give the utmost possible variety, and that they may be tha 
better suited for juvenile minds and memories. They exhibit 
models of affectionate regard, of tender recollection, of ele- 
gant description, of moral truth, and well-turned compliment 
on general subjects. They awake, however, no passion, ex* 
cept what the purest heart may feel ; and they fan no flame 
which youthful innocence need blush to own. 

This TENTH Editionthas been carefully revised, and some 
pieces, not in any former impression, have been inserted from 
living or recent poets of deserved eminence. Among the rest, 
are a few pieces from the pen of the late Mr. Pratt, my origi- 
nal coadjutor in compiling the volume. It is my wish, should 
the plan meet with encouragement, and health and life be 
allowed, to publish a Selection from the works of that 
esteemed poet and novelist, with Biographical and Critical 
Remarks. 

Woodstock, Jan, 1 823. W. MA VOR . 






1 N TROD U G T I ON. 

THE NATURE, ORIGIN, and PROGRESS of POETRY 

Though many names of the first emineuce have sanctioneS 
the idea, that the essence of poetry consists in fiction, perhaps 
it would be better defined ** as the language of passion, or of 
*' enlivened imagination, formed most commonly into regular 
" numbers, according to the genius of every respective laii« 
** guage, or its legitimate laws of versification." 

The primary aim of the poet is to please and to move. It is to 
the imagination and the passions that he addresses himself; and 
through them leads to amusement, instruction, or information.; 

It has been contended, and perhaps with truth, that poetry 
was antecedent to prose composition. Certain it is, that in \he 
very beginning of society, men used occasionally to assemble at 
feasts and sacrifices, when the song and the dance constituted 
their chief entertainment. Indeed in the infancy of all nations, 
there are found traces of poetic composition ; it is natural to 
the simplest and the purest minds, and forms the relish of ti*B 
most cultivated and civilized. : ''^• 

Apollo, Orpheus, and Amphion, first tamed the ferocity of 
the Greeks by their music and poetry. The Gothic natioi^ 
had their scalders, or poets ; and the Celtic tribes their bards^ 
The meetings of the North American savages are still distia-t 
guished by music and song. By these, all rude nations cele- 
brated their gods, their heroes, and their victories. Both their 
music and poetry abound in fire and enthusiasm ; they are 
wild, irregular, and glowing, like the genius of the people from 
which they flow. 

As mankind advances in civilization, poetry assumes a nevf 
character, and is diversified into different species. An approit^ 
priate end, a peculiar merit, and certain rules, are assigned tp 
each variety. The principal are pastoral, lyeic, didactic, 
DESCRIPTIVE, ELEGIAC, EPIC, and DRAMATIC, poctry. The' 
two last do not fall within our present plan to elucidate: the 
Others will be briefly characterized in order. The subsequent 
pages furnish numerous examples under each head, and there-^ 
fore it may gratify and instruct the student to compare the' 
execution with the design. 

5""^ Sect. IL :^::rit 

^ J, PASTORAL POETRY. ^^JO 

r fQE'HOUGH pastoral poetry probably was as ancient as separawf 
property^ and-the business of tending flocks and herds, it was 
not till cities were built, and mankind collected under laws, 
that this species of composition assumed its present form. From 
the tumult and bustle of crowded cities, men began to looK"; 
back with complacency and delight tO the Innocent amusements 
of rural hfe. In the court of Ptolemy, Theocritus wrote the 
^rst pastorals that have descended to posterity; and in the court 
€)f Augustus, the divhie Virgil improved on the models hehad le^ 



0F~ PASTORAt POETRY, V 

The pastoral irresistibly wins the heart, by recalling the 
objects of childhood and youth, and painting the gay scenes 
of uncorrupt nature. It wakes the image of a life to which 
c-i*e associate the ideas of innocence, peace, and ease: it trans- 
ports us into the loveliest regions; it lays hold on objects in 
which nature appears in her primitive beauty and simplicity. 

The pastoral poet is careful to exhibit whatever is most 
pleasing in the pastoral state. He paints its simple manners, 
it^ tranquil repose, its enviable happiness ; but it is his study 
to conceal its rudeness and misery. His pictures are froni real 
life, but he rejects whatever may disgust. 

The scene must invariably be laid in the country, and the 
pastoral poet must possess a talent for rural description. To 
succeed, he must paint with distinctness, and give appropriate 
imagery. His landscape must resemble what a good painter 
would figure on canvas. 

In his allusions to natural objects, as well as in professed 
descriptions of scenery, he should endeavour to be clear and 
various, and even to diversify the face of nature. The scenery 
^ould also be suited to the subject of the pastoral, in order to 
preserve unity of design. ,« 

v InTegard to characters, which form the most prominent ob- 
jects in pastorals, they must be actually shepherds, or persons 
wholly engaged in rural occupations. The shepherd must be 
plain and unaffected, without being dull and insipid. He must 
havegood sense and vivacity, delicacy and feeling* butheshould 
confine himself to subjects with which he may naturally be sup- 
posed to be conversant, and avoid refinement and conceit. 

With respect to the subjects of pastorals, much tasteis neces- 
sary. It is not enough that thepoet should engage his shepherds 
in general conversation : there must be an interesting topic, 
adapted to their situations. The passions of mankind are nearly 
the same in every sphere; but they are modified by situation and 
character. The shepherd has his ambition and his pride, his 
disquiet and his felicity, his rivalries, his successes, and mis- 
^rriages, all which are proper topics for the pastoral muse. 
. At the head of this kind of writing- stand Theocritus and 
Virgil. The former, however, displays a simplicity bordering 
en rudeness : the latter, with infinite simplicity and grace, 
sometimes touches the verge of affected refinement. 

The modern pastoral poets have generally imitated or blended 
those two great prototypes. We shall advert only to those of 
our own country. Pope and PbiVlips have chiefly distinguished 
themselves in this line of composition. Pope is principally 
distinguished for smoothness of versification and harmony Of 
numbers. His incidents are few, and his shepherds, like his 
lines, have an uniform equality,; Phillips attempted to copy 
nature more closely ; but he had not genius to render her atwj 
tractive. Low images offend as much in his characters, as 
nffected refinement m those of Pope. 

Perhaps Shenstone's pastoral ballad is one of the inOBt 
perfect poems in this species of writing in our language j if 



we except Allan' Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd, which is without 
a parallel for tenderness of sentiment, affecting incident and 
justness and propriety of painting. The Doric dialect in which 
it is written, sets off its other graces; and gives it a charm 
which no other pastoral poem will ever attain. Some beautif*^ 
shortpastorals will be found interspersed in this volume. ''-a 

The ode is a very ancient and dignified species of poetife 
composition, and means a song or hymn ; while lyric poetryjiii^ 
its general acceptation, indicates verses which may be accom- 
panied by the lyre, or some other musical instrument. r 

The ode still retains its original form and designation. Inf 
spirit and execution lie its principal beauties : it admits of a 
happy irregularity, and a high degree of enthusiasm on sub*' 
jects of sentiment rather than of action. 

Blair classes odes under four denomhiations. — I. Hymna 
to the Supreme Being, and relating to religious subjects. 

II. Heroic Odes, in celebration of heroes and splendid actions, 

III. Moral and Philosophical Odes, which refer chiefly to virtue, 
sriendship, and humanity. IV. Festive and amatory Odes, 
which are written and applied to promote conviviality, or to 
paint the passions of love and the enchantments of beauty. 

Enthusiasm is justly allowed as being characteristic of the 
ode ; but numbers have erred from taking this privilege iu top 
great latitude ; and hence have thought themselves at liberty 
to indulge in any eccentricities, and to become irregular and 
obscure. It is not necessary indeed that the structure of the 
ode should be raised on principles of measured exactness ; but 
\n every work of genius, whether short or long, the parts 
should bear an intimate relation to the whole, and a visible 
bond of connexion should be preserved. The transition fronj 
thought to thought may be rapid and vivid, but the chakiJ^f, 
ideas should nevertheless be unbroken. 1", 

Pindar, the father of lyric poetry, by the daring flights of 
his genius has led his imitators into wildness and rant. They 
catch his disorder, without the spirit. Horace, on the other 
hand, is correct, harmonious, and happy. Grace and elegance 
appear in all his compositions. He treats a moral sentiment 
with dignity, touches a gay one with felicity, and is even agree- 
able when he trifles. In short, he is the most perfect model 
for lyric poets. 

In our own language, we have numerous odes of exquisite 
beauty. Dry den, Gray, Collins, Scott, Langhorne, and many 
others, need only be named to prove how successfully lyric 
poetry has been cultivated in this country. Yet it must be 
xspnfessed, more silly pieces are published undei the name of 
odes, than of any other species of poetry. Every person, who 
can rhyme, thinks himself qualified to write a song, or com- 
plimentary ode ; but the general failure sha.JK^>^thiat-;iia^a8^0t 
.•oeasy as many are led to Tmagiiie.,: )b bat'ioi* -mU aJ ^aibl<^ 



op.a>n)i;jiiTic iDETRY. ril 

ii;TaE express design of didactic poetry is to convey know- 
ledge and instruction, Tiiis species of composition adoiits ojf^ 
6ousiderable variety in the mode of execution, the length, the 
style, the measure, and other qualities : but the inteiition musfe; 
be uniformly to make us wiser and better. 

In the higher classes of didactic poetry, stand the books of 
Lucretius on the Nature of Things ; the Georgics of Virgil ; 
the Pleasures of Imagination, by Akenside; Armstrong on 
Health, and Horace, Vida, Boileau, and Pope, on Criticism, 
^iln all these works instruction is the avowed object ; yet the 
poet must not forget to enliven his lessons by figures, inci- 
dents, and poetical delineations. Virgil is peculiarly happy in 
this respect. Instead of tamely informing us that a farmer 
must begin his labours in the spring, he expresses himself in 
tlie following animated manner. 

While yet the spring is youngf, while earth unbinds 
Her frozen bosom to the western winds -, 
While mountain snows dissolve against the sun, 

-:, And streams yet new from precipices run ; 

' Ev'n in this early dawning of tlie jear, 
Produce the plough, and yoke the sturdy steer. 
And goad him till he groans beneath his toil, 
Till the bright share is buried in the soil. 

Didactic poetry requires method and arrangement, so that 
the precepts it enforces may follow in connected order, and 
mutually strengthen each other. Episodes and embellishments 
may, however, be freely used, when a co-Telative to the pri* 
mary design. The digressions in the Georgics, such as the 
happiness of a rural life, the fable of Aristeus, and the tale of 
Orpheus and Eurydice, are above all praise. 

Among modern didactic poets, who have done honour to 
Britain, Akenside and Armstrong rank very high. The former 
possessed a rich poetical imagination, and a pomp of diction 
equal to the sublimity of the ideas it clothes. The latter is more 
equable, and chiefly remarkable for a chaste and correct elegance. 

Under didactic poetry, satires and epistles are naturally- 
classed. Without adverting to the ancients who have distin- 
guished themselves in this walk. Pope furnishes the most per- 
fect models in both lines of composition. Nor is Young to be 
passed over without notice. He possessed an exuberance of 
fancy, but his genius was not always under the control of 
taste and judgment. His Universal Passion has much merit^ 
aid there are many passages in his Night Thoughts which 
#puld do honour to any poet. 

- Of short didactic poems, we have furnished some delightful 
i^ecimens, which it cannot be necessary to particularize. 

Ca Sect. V. 

.-f- DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. 

*90figcsiPTiVE poetry, taken in a limited and local Sense, ad* 
cording to the correct definition of Dr. Johnson, " is a species 



trM OP <l>^CRtiPf WE POETIIY. 

** of composition, of which the fundamental subject is some 
** particular landscape to be poetically described, with the ad- 
" dition of such embellishments as may be supplied by histo- 
** rical retrospection, or incidental meditation/' Of tbis kind 
are Denham's Cooper's Hill, and Pope's Windsor Forest. 

Descriptive poetry, however, without relation to place, is 
among the higher efforts of genius, and is frequently mixed 
with every other species. It is the test of poetic imagination, 
and distinguishes an original genius from a mere copyist. A 
true poet places the object he would paint before our eyes. 
He gives it the genuine colours of life, and affords subjects 
from which the painter may draw. 

llie great art of picturesque description lies in the selection 
of suitable circumstances, properly applied. In describing a 
grand object, every circumstance should tend to raise and i'u- 
.noble : in depicting a gay object, all the circumstances should 
conspire to beautify. 

The most capital descriptive poem in our own, and perhaps 
in any language, ancient or modern, is Thomson's Seasons. 
Possessed of a feeling heart, and a warm imagination, Thom- 
son, enamoured of nature, painted her with the enthusiasm of 
a lover who had been admitted to the enjoyment of her beau- 
ties. His work is replete with picturesque imagery, and in 
.such a galaxy of glowing charms, it is difficult to select one 
more captivating than another. Take, however, the following 
passage, which displays the hand of a master in an exquisite 
degree. It is founded on the general mortahty which seized the 
English Fleet, under Admiral Vernon, lying before Carthagena: 

You, gallant Vernon, saw 

The miserable scene : you pitying; saw 
To infant weakness sunk the warrior's arm ; 
Saw the deep-racking pang : the ghastly form j 
' The lip pale quiv'ring, and the beamless eye 

No more with ardour bright; you heard the groans 
Of agonizing ships from shore to shore ; is 

Heard nightly plnng'd amid the sullen waves, ff 

The frequent corse. r. 

All the circumstances which this great poet has selected^5&n 
the occasion, heighten the dismal scene: the last adraifsaof 
nothing beyond it. • ?• 3 

Parnell's Tale is a fine example of descriptive narrative ; afci 
Milton's Allegro and Penseroso leave us satisfied, that the ef- 
fect of this species of poetry can be carried no farther. What 
Vivid colouring shmes in these lines from Penseroso ! 

1 walk, unseen, 

On the dry, smooth-shaven green, 
To hehold the wandering moon 
' Riding near her highest noon ; 
,.p And oft, as if her head she bo w'd, 

StjQoping through a fleecy cloud. .1.,., 

Oft on a plat of rising ground, -^'-^ii;; 

I hear the far-ofr" curfew sound, oigaBq 

:!rr=,^ Ovcr sonic wide-watcr'd shoic, ] a^ tgmwofi 

Swinging slow with solemn rorr: vbobm silj siidw 



sjaOE ^8l0i. if the aif will n©t permit^idw lo ■ ^opjiiaogmoa 1o^* 
■»!)£ i>&: Some still removed place will fitjr^r-mHhaBl imiqiiiBq **^ 
=cl? "Where glowing' embers throua^h tlieroomya v nnsiih s» 
bn' Teach fiuht to counlerfeit a gloom ; .ll^LliJX''i> ' 
■ Far from all resort of mirthy ^S^ ^X^^ " 

Save the cricket on the hearth, ^^1^^^ mtBda^Q sip . 
f r Or the bellman's drowsy charm, "^-nq 9r?riqnpg9CI - 
m:i. *Y^ bless th€ doors from nightly harm ; '-■^^d srfi gfiorri« * 
^aoh Or let my lamp at midnight hour ilo ?°£373 dilw , 

A Be seen, in some high lonely tow'r, - ^itVifc W 

„a.j , Exploring Plato, to unfold "^7 ^ ' 

*io^ What worlds, or what vast regions, hoW j^ocf 9im 

' ^^ Th' immortal mind that hath Forsook : ' t, yjti 

1^ Her mansion in this fleshy nook ; :^'t(ytk 

noilos.ssAnd of those demons that are fonnd f 

£ ^ In fire, air, flood, or under ground. ; If^ 

r'feoth Homer and Virgil, among the auciertts, excel in poetfel 
iSescription, and hence the charm of their compositions. Ossian 
too paints in colom-s of fire, and opens every avenue to the 
heart: "I have seen the walls of Balcliitha; but they are de-; 
/' solate. The fire hath resounded within the walls; and the 
" voice of the people is now heard no more. The stream of 
" Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of the walls ; 
" the thistle shook there its lonely head ; the moss whistled to 
** the wind. The fcfx looked out of the window ; the rank grass 
** waved round his head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina ; 
" silence is in the house of her fathers." 

Much of the beauty of descriptive poetry depends on a 
propsr choice of epithets ; but no rules can teach their appli- 
cation: "A poet is born, not made." 

Sect. VI. 
ELEGIAC POETRY. 
The Elegy is a mixed species of poetic composition. In its 
character it is mournful and plaintive, yet sweet and engaging. 
It was first used to bewail the loss of friends and relations ; 
and afterwards employed to express the complaints of lovers, 
or any other melancholy subject. In process of time, not only 
grief, but joy, wishes, prayers, expostulations, reproaches, ad- 
monitions, and almost every subject were admitted into Elegy. 
Its chief end, however, is well defined in the following lilies 
fe'omBoileau; i^if 

«i ' "'T^he plaintive Elegy, in mournful slate, ;; io iasl:* 

Dishevell'd weeps the stern decrees of fate, ogi hiiif 
Now paints the lover's torments and delights ; 
Now the nymph flatters, threat€«S9 or invites; 
But he who would these passions well e^^press, 
Must more of love than poesy possess. 

In the Elegy, all must be solemn and dignified. No epigranv- 
matic points or conceits can be admitted. Nature and the 
passions alone should prevail : the language ought to be pure, 
flowing, and impressive ; and the sentiments reiich the heart, 
while the melodv of the v-erse strikes the ear. 



1% 
X OP recita¥i6k. : 

Grray*8 Eleffy in a country cburch-yard is a master-piece ia 
this species of poetry. Hammond's love elegies are elegant, 
but too mucli on the model of Tibullus ; they possess affected 
ornaments, which genuine passion disclaims. Shenstone's 
Elegies are deservedly admired; but they are frequently dis- 
figured by point and antithesis. 

To -enumerate all the beautiful Elegies in our own language, 
would be impossible. Scarcely an author of reputation but has 
written one or more; and several, giving way to the impulse of 
tender passions, have succeeded in classic composition, wh<^ 
have failed in more elaborate attempts. 

S^^TTVII. f 

im.- ENGLISH VERSIFICATION, ,^^ 3^^ ^^ 

#'' AND THE MANNER OP EEADING IT* , . ' .5-^.? k,.^ 

To adopt all the distinctions of feet, or long and short &yi* 
lables, used by the Greeks and Romans, would only confound, 
nor do they accord with the genius of our language. Mere 
quantity, indeed, has very little effect in English versification. 
The only perceptible difference among our syllables, is occa- 
sioned by a stronger percussion of the voice on some of them,^ ; 
which is termed accent. This accent, however, does not 
lengthen the syllable: it communicates only additional force 
of sound. It is upon a certain order and succession of ac- 
c<?nted and unaccented syllables, more than upon their bemg 
long and short, that the melody of our verse depends* 
• Measure is various, according to the nature of the subject, 
and the taste of the poet. In lyric poetry, verses of eight and 
six syllables, alternately rhyming, and sometimes only tfa^I 
second and fourth lines/are not uncommon ; as, liia 

Z^,.. When all thy mercies, () my God ! -; &"=■ 

^:*' My rising soul surveys : ;-:7 

"'' Transported with the v'iew, I'm lost 

In wonder, love, and praise. 

Verses of eight syllables in a line, alternately rhyming, par- 
take something of the Elegy, and are sweetly plaintive : 
In yonder grave a Druid lies, 
Where slowly winds the stealing wave ; 
"-' The year's best sweets shall duteous rise 

To'deck its poet's sylvan grave. _^ 

^^^etses of oight syllables, rhyming in couplets, are also usea 

8i lyric composition ; a 

The spacious firmament on high, iv 

With all the bine ethereal sky, li 

And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame, ^. 

Their great Original proclaim. " 

Heroic verse, as it is called, consists of ten syllables, rhyming 

in couples: 

"'"'"'■ *'Ye8ons of men! with satisfaction know-S^'^i^'^fl 
God's own right hand dispenses all below ; i bffiji 
Nor good nor evil does by chance befall ; d X 
He reigns supreme, and lie directs it all. J 



Oy R«€ITATION. Xl r^ 

Elegy islike\^ise in heroic measure; but here the first ar^ 
third, and the second and fourth, Imes correspond m the closipi^^ 
syllable: V^^ 

- Let others boast their heaps of shining gold, » 

ag/ And view their fields with waving plenty crown'd. 
When neighb'ring foes in constant terror hold, 
And trumpets break their glumbers, never sound. 
Blank verse again, which is best adapted for the higher 
species of poetry and tragedy, preserves the heroic measure^^ I 
but without rhyme : , |;^^^ 

These, as they change^ Almighty Father, these ;^i ^Wvi 
Are but the varied God. The rolling year "^^ ^ " ^^ 

Is full of thee. . 

We have also verses of eleven syllables, rhyming in couplets; 
and lyric poetry allows different intermixtures of all the above, 
when written in stanzas. 

In reading or reciting verse, the unexperienced frequently 
find a difficulty in pausing with propriety, and givhig a melo- 
dious cadence to the lines. Regarding rules for reading, nearly 
as inefficient as rules for dancing or fencing, which no one ever 
learned from written precepts, we shall be concise on this 
head. The oral instruction of a person of taste, can alone, 
communicate the mode of graceful enunciation, whether in 
prose or verse. Example too is more powerful than any di- 
rections can give ; yet some general observations may be pro. 
ductive of utility. 

We have already mentioned pauses: these are of two kinds, 
one near the middle of the line, and the other at the termination* 
Rhyme always renders the latter suitable ; and it is impos- 
siblj to neglect its observance in the pronunciation. In blank 
verse, however, it is less marked ; and where there is no sus- 
pension of the sense, it may perhaps be questioned whether any 
pause should be made at the close of the line. On the stage, in- 
deed, every appearance of speaking in verse should be avoided, 
and the sense alone should direct the performer ; but in reading 
or reciting, it is not amiss, for the sake of melody, to make every 
line sensibly distinct. All sing-song, however, should be cau- 
tiously avoided ; and where there is no pause in the sense, it 
will be sufficient to mark the close of the hue by a slight sus- 
pension of sound. 

The pause hi the middle of lines in heroic verse, must of ne- 
cessity fall aft,er the fourth, fifth, sixth, or seventh syllable. In 
varying these judiciously, consist the art of the poet and the 
harmony of his numbers. Regular pauses always tire the eair , 
and if they frequently occur too near the beginning, or too near 
the close of a verse, the melody will be weakened or destroyed. 

Sometimes it happens that the central pause corresponds in 
some degree with the verse; and in this case it is impossible to 
read wrong. The two first lines of Pope's Messiah are of this 
kkd: ^ 

Ye nymphs of Solyma! begin the song ; ^ 
To heavenly themes subliiner strains belong 



Xli OP* RECITATIOM. 

Occasionally we meet with lines where the words have such 
aft intimate connexion, as not to admit even of a momentary 
separation, and yet the pause seems to demand it. In this case, 
the sense must never be sacrificed to the sound. In the one, this 
part may appear inartificial ; but in the other, the reader would 
appear ridiculous. Take an example of this discrepancy be- 
tween the pause and the sense from Milton : 

What in me is daj'k, 

Illumine ', what is low, raise and support. 

Here the sense evidently dictates the pause after " illumine;* 
but if melody alone was to be regarded, no pause should be 
made till after the fourth or the sixth syllable.— So in this line 
of Pope, 

I s\., with sad civility I read, 

The ear would naturally indicate the pause after " sad ," but 
to separate "sad" and " civility," would be a flagrant want of 
regard to the sense. 

Such pauses, however, are not frequent in good poets ; and 
are only pointed out as exceptions. Pope, whose monotonous 
pauses sometimes tire the ear, will supply likewise examples- 
of a happy variation in this respect. 

We have remarked that the pause should never take place 
but between the fourth and the seventh syllable. Whenitfalb- 
on the fourth it gives a spirited air to the line : 

On her white breast j a sparkling- cross she wore, 
Which Jews might kiss | and Infidels adore. 

When the pause falls after the fifth syllable, the melody is 

sensibly altered. The verse gains in smoothness and flowing, 

what it loses in briskness. 

Eternal sunshine | of the spotless mind. 
Each prayer accepted, | and each wish resi^n'd. 
The melody grows still more grave, and the march of the verse 

more solemn and m.easured, when the pause follows the sixth. 

syllable : 

The wrath of Peleus son, | the direful spring* 
Of all the Grecian woes, | O sjoddess I sing. 

When the pause takes place after the seventh syllable, which 
is not very common, the cadence'becomes still more sensibly 
grave. It is sometimes employed with advantage to diversify 
the melody of long poems. 

And in the sniooth'd description I murmur still. 
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, | ail adieu, 

, With regard to the pauses in lyric verse, no precise rules 
can be given. In some measure they depend, according to 
their proportionate length, on the same laws as heroic verse ; 
but a good ear, a correct taste, and a judicious instructor, can 
alone supply what we have candidly confessed no written rules 
can give. 



CLASSICAL 

ENGLISH POETRY. 



^ THE VIOLET. 

ShELTER'D from the blight ambition. 

Fatal to the pride of rank. 
See me in my low condition. 

Laughing on the tufted banJ^. 

■-^On my robes (for emulation) 
No variety's imprest ; 
Suited to an humble station. 
Mine's an unembroider'd vest. 

Modest though the maids declare me. 

May, in her fantastic train. 
When Pastora deigns to wear me. 

Has no flow'ret half so vain. ^^^ Cunningham. 



TO THE CUCKOO. 

HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove ! 

Thou messenger of spring ! 
Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat. 

And woods thy welcome sing. 

What time the daisy decks the green 

Thy certain voice we hear ; 
Hast thou a star to guide thy path. 

Or mark the rolling year ? 

Delightful visitant ! with thee 

I hail the time of flowers. 
And hear the sound of music sweet 

From birds among the bowers. 

The school-boy, wandering thro' the wood 

To pull the primrose gay. 
Starts, the new voice of spring to hear. 

And imitates thy lay. 

B 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETKY. 

What time the pea puts on the bloom 
Thou fly's t thy vocal vale. 

An annual guest in other lauds. 
Another Spring to hail. 

Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green. 

Thy sky is ever cl^ar ; 
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song. 

No Winter in thy year ! 

O could I fly, I'd fly with thee ! 

We'd make, with joyful wing. 
Our annual visit o'er the globe. 

Companions of the Spring, 



LOGAN. 



THE NARCISSUS. 

AS pendant o'er the limpid stream 
I bow'd my snowy pride. 

And languish'd in a fruitless flame, 
For what the Fates deny'd : 

The fair Pastora chanc'd to pass^ 

With such an angel air, 
I saw her in the wat'ry glass. 

And lov'd the rival fair. 

Ye Fates, no longer let me pine, 

A self-admiring sweet, 
Permit me, by your grace divine. 

To kiss the fair one's feet : 

That if by chance the gentle maid 
My fragrance should admire, 

I may, upon her bosom laid. 
In sister sweets expire. 



CUNNINGHAM. 



YOUTH. 

YOUTH is the vision of a morn. 
That flies the coming day : 

It is the blossom on the thorn. 
Which rude winds sweep away. 

'Tis like the charming hue that glows 

Upon ft virgin's face ; 
Till care hath nipp'd her fading rose, 

And wither'd every grace. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

It is the image of the sky 

In glassy waters seen ; 
When not a cloud appears to fly 

Across the blue serene. 

But when the waves begin to roar. 

And lift their foaming head. 
The raimic stars appear no more. 

And all the Heaven is fled. 

'Tis fleeting as the passing rays 

Of bright electric fire; 
That gild the pole with sudden blaze, 
^ And in that blaze expire. 

And tender as the filmy threads 

Which in the dewy dawn, 
From flow'r to flow'r Arachne spreads 

Wide o'er the gentle lawn. 

It is the morning's verdant gale. 

That, as it softly blows. 
Scarce seems to sigh across the vale. 

Or bend the blushing rose. 

But soon the gath'ring tempests pour. 

And all the sky deform ; 
The gale becomes the whirlwind's roar ; 

The sigh, a raging storm. 

For Care and Sorrow's morbid gloom. 

And heart-corroding Strife, 
And Sickness, pointing to the tomb. 

Await the noon of life ! anon. 



TO A LITTLE GIRL. 

FAIREST flower, all flowers excelling, 

Which in Milton's page we see : 
Flowers of Eve's embowered dwelling 

Are, my fair one, types of thee. 

Mark, my Polly, how the roses 

Emulate thy damask cheek ; 
How the bud its sweets discloses- — 

Buds thy opening bloom bespea!?. 

B2 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Lilies are by plain direction 

Emblems of a double kind ; 
Emblems of thy fair complexion. 

Emblems of thy fairer mind. 
Butj dear girl, both flowers and beauty 

Blossom, fade, and die away ; 
Then pursue good sense and duty 

Evergreens, which ne'er decay ! coTToiir, 



TO A REDBREAST. 

LITTLE bird, with bosom red. 
Welcome to my humble shed I 
Courtly domes of high degree 
Have no room for thee and me ; 
Pride and Pleasure's fickle throng 
Nothing mind an idle song. 

Daily near my table steal. 
While I pick my scanty meal ; 
Doubt not, little tho' there be. 
But I'll cast a crumb to thee ; 
Well rewarded, if I spy 
Pleasure in thy glancing eye : 
See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill. 
Plume thy breast, and wipe thy bill. 

Come, my feather'd friend, again. 
Well thou know'st the broken pane t 
Ask of me thy daily store ; 
Go not near Avaro's door : 
Once within his iron hall, 
Woful end shall thee befall. 
Savage ! — He would soon divest 
Of its rosy plumes thy breast ; 
Then,' with solitary joy. 
Eat thee, bones and all, my boy. langhorne. 



THE COMMON LOT. 



ONCE in the flight of ages past 

There liv'd a man — and ivko was he ? 

Mortal ! howe'er thy lot be cast. 
That man resembl'd thee ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. . b 

Unknown the region of his birth. 

The land in which he died unknown. 

His name hath perish'd from the eaith. 
This ti'Lith survives alone — 

That joy, and grief, and hope, and fear. 

Alternate triumph in his breast. 
His bliss and woe, a smile, a tear ! 

Oblivion hides tJie rest. 

The bounding pulse, the languid limb. 

The changing spirits' rise and fall. 
We know that these were felt by him. 

For these are felt by all. 

He sufFer'd — but his pangs are o'er, 

Enjoy'd — but his delights are fled. 
Had friends — his friends are now no more. 

And foes — his foes are dead. 

He lov'd — but whom he lov'd, the grave 
Hath lost in its unconscious womb; 

O she was fair ! but nought could save 
Her beauty from the tomb. 

The rolling seasons, day and night. 

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main. 

Ere while his portion, life and light. 
To hira exist — in vain. 

He saw whatever tliou hast seen, 

Encounter'd all that troubles thee. 
He was — -whatever thou hast been. 

He is — what thou shall be ! 

The clouds and sunbeams o'er his eye 
That once their shade and glory threw. 

Have left, in yonder silent sky. 
No vestige where they flew ! 

The annals of the human race. 

Their ruin since the world began. 
Of him afford no other trace 

Than this — there liv'd a man. 

MONTGOMERY. 

B3 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



DAY : A PASTORAL- 
MORNING. 

IN the barn the tenant cock. 

Close to Partlet perch'd on high. 

Briskly crows, (the shepherd's clock I) 
Jocund that the morning's nigh. 

S%viftly from the mountain's brow. 
Shadows, nurs'd by Night, retire; 

And the peeping sun-beam, now. 
Paints with gold the village spire. 

Pliilomel forsakes the thorn. 

Plaintive where she prates at night ; 
And the lark, to meet the morn. 

Soars beyond the shepherd's sight. 

From the low-roof d cottage ridge 
See the chatt'ring swallow spring ; 

Darting thro' the one-arch'd bridge. 
Quick she dips her dappled wing. 

Now the pine-tree's waving top 
Gently greets the morning gale ' 

Kidlings, now, begin to crop 
Daisies in the dewy vale. 

From the balmy sweets, uncloy'd, 
(Restless till her task be done,) 

Now the busy bee's employ'd 
Sipping dew before the sun. 

Trickling thro' the crevic'd rock. 
Where the limpid stream distils. 

Sweet refreshment waits the flock 
When 'tis sun- drove from the hills. 

Colin, for the promis'd corn 

(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe) 

Anxious, hears the huntsman's horn 
Boldly sounding, drown his pipe. 

Sweet, O sweet, the warbling throng. 
On the white emblossom'd spray ! 

Nature's universal song 
Echoes to the rising day/ 



CXASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



NOON. 

FERVID on the glitt'ring flood, 
Now the noon- tide radiance glows. 

Dropping o'er its infant bud. 
Not a dew-drop's left the rose. 

By the brook the shepherd dines ; 

From the fierce meridian heat 
Shelter'd by the branching pnies. 

Pendant o'er his grassy seat. 

Now the flock forsakes the glade. 

Where, uncheck'd, the sun-beams fall 

Sure to find a pleasing shade 
By the ivy'd abbey- wall. 

Echo, in her airy round. 

O'er the river, rock, and hill. 

Cannot catch a single sound. 
Save the clack of yonder mill. 

Cattle court the zephjn-s bland. 

Where the streamlet wanders cool ; 

Or with languid silence stand 
Midway in the marshy pool. 

But from mountain, dell, or stream, 
Not a flutt'ring zephyr springs ; 

Fearful lest the noon-tide beam 
Scorch its soft, its silken wings. 

Not a leaf has leave to stir. 

Nature's luU'd, serene and still ! 

Quiet e'en the shepherd's cur. 
Sleeping on the heath-clad hill. 

Languid is the landscape round, 
'Till the fresh descending shower. 

Grateful to the thii'sty ground, 
Raises ev'ry fainting flower. 

Now the hill, the hedge is green. 
Now the warbler's throat's in tune^ 

Bhthsome is the verdant scene, 
Brighten'd by the beams of noon ! 

B4 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRYi 



EVENING. 

D'ER the heath the heifer strays 

Free—(the furrow'd task is done)- — 

Now the village windows blaze, 
Burnish'd by the setting sun. 

Now he hides behind tlie hill. 

Sinking from a golden sky : 
Can the pencil's mimic skill 

Copy the refulgent dye ? 

Trudging as the ploughmen go 

(To the smoking hamlet bound) 
Giant-like their shadows grow, 

Lengthen'd o'er the level ground. 

"Where tlie rising forest spreads 

Shelter for the lordly dome. 
To their high-built aiiy beds. 

See the rooks returning home ! 

,As the lark with varied tune 

Carols to the evening loud, 
Mark the mild resplendent moon 

Breaking thro' a paited cloud ! 

Now the hermit owlet peeps 

From the barn, or twisted brake ; 

And the blue mist slowly creeps. 
Curling on the silver lake. 

As the ti'out in speckled pride. 

Playful from its bosom springs. 
To the banks a riiiHed tide 

Verges in successive rings. 

Tripping thro' the silken grass. 

O'er the path-divided dale, 
Mark the rose-complexion'd lass. 

With her well-pois'd milking pail. 

Linnets, with unnumber'd notes. 

And the cuckoo bird with two. 
Tuning sv/eet their mellow throats. 

Bid the setting sun adieu. Cunningham. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



THE ANT, OR EMMET. 

THESE Emmets, how little they are in our eyes ! 
We tread them to dust, and a troop of them dies 

Without our regard or concern : 
Yet, as wise as we are, if we went to their school. 
There's many a sluggard, and many a fool. 

Some lessons of wisdom might learn. 

They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play, 
But gather up corn in a sun- shiny day. 

And for winter they lay up their stores : 
They manage their work in such regular forms. 
One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the storms. 

And so brought their food within doors. 

But I have less sense than a poor creeping Ant, 
If I take not due care for the things I shall v»'ant, 

Nor provide against dangers in time : 
When death or old age shall stare me in ray face. 
What a wretch shall I be in the end of my days. 

If I trifle away all their prime ! 

Now, now, while my strength and my youth are in bloom. 
Let me think what wiU serve me when sickness shall come. 

And pray that ray sins be forgiv'n : 
Let me read in good books, and believe and obey. 
That when death turns me out of this cottage of clay, 

I may dwell in a palace in heaven. watts. 



THE DRUM. 



I HATE the Drum's discording sound. 
Parading round, and round, and round : 
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields. 
And lures from cities and from fields. 
To sell their Hberty for charms 
Of tawdry lace and glitt'ring arms ; 
And when Ambition's voice commands. 
To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands, 

I hate that drum's discording sound. 
Parading round, and round, and round : 
To me it talks of ravag'd plains. 
And burning towns, and ruin'd swains. 

B5 



10 CLASSICAli ENGfciSH POETRY. 

And mangled limbs, and dying groans. 

And widows' tears, and orphans' moans ; 

And all that Misery's hand bestows 

To fill the catalogue of human woes. scott. 



THE DYING KID. 

A TEAR bedews my Delia's eye. 
To think yon playful kid must die ; 
From crystal spring, and flowery mead. 
Must in his prime of life recede ! 

Erewhile, in sportive circles round. 
She saw him wheel, and frisk, and bound ; 
From rock to rock pursue his way. 
And on the fearful margin play. 

Pleas'd on his various freaks to dwell. 
She saw him climb my rustic cell : 
Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright. 
And seem all ravish'd at the sight. 

She tells with what delight he stood. 
To trace his features in the flood : 
Then skipp'd aloof with quaint amaze ; 
And then drew near again to gaze. 

She tells me how, with eager speed. 
He flew to hear my vocal reed ; 
And how, with critic face profound. 
And steadfast ear, devour'd the sound. 

His every frolic, light as air, 
Deserves the gentle Delia's care ; 
Aad tears bedew her tender eye. 
To think the playful kid must die. 

But knows, my Delia, timely wise. 
How soon this blameless era flies ; 
While violence and craft succeed. 
Unfair design, and ruthless deed ! 

Soon would the vine his wounds deplore. 
And yield her purple gifts no more _; 
Ah ! soon, eras'd from every grove 
Were Delia's name and Strephon's love. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. U 

No more these bowers might Strephon see. 
Where first he fondly gaz'd on thee ; 
No more these beds of flow'rets find. 
Which for thy charming brows he twin'd. 

Each wayward passion soon would tear 
His bosom now so void of care ; 
And, when they left his ebbing vein. 
What but insipid age remain ? 

Then mourn not the decrees of fate. 

That gave his life so short a date : 

And I will join thy tenderest sighs, 

To think that youth' so swiftly flies ! shenstone. 



PROVIDENCE. 

THE Lord my pasture shall prepare. 
And feed me with a shepherd's care ; 
His presence shall my wants supply. 
And guard me with a watchful eye ; 
My noon-day walks he shall attend. 
And aU my midnight hours defend. 

When in the sultry glebe T faint. 
Or on the thirsty mountain pant ; 
To fertile vales and dewy meads 
My weary wand'ring steps he leads : 
W^here peaceful rivers, soft and slow. 
Amid the verdant landscape flow. 

Though in the paths of death I tread. 
With gloomy horrors overspread. 
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill. 
For thou, O Lord, art with me still : 
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid. 
And guide me through the dreadful shade. 

Though in a bare and rugged way. 

Through devious lonely wilds I stray, 

Thy bounty shall my pains beguile : 

The barren wilderness shall smile. 

With sudden greens and herbage erown'd. 

And streams shall murmur all around. addison. 

B6 



12 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



THE WISH. 

HOW short is life's uncertain space ! 

Alas I how quickly done ! 
How swift the wild precarious chace ! 
And yet how difficult the race. 

How very hard to run ! 

Youth stops at first its wilful ears 

To wisdom's prudent voice ; 
Till now arriv'd to riper years, 
Experienc'd age, worn out with cares. 

Repents its earlier choice. 

What though its prospects now appear 

So pleasing and refin'd ; 
Yet groundless hope and anxious fear 
By turns the busy moments share. 

And prey upon the mind. 

Since then false joys our fancy cheat 

With hopes of real bliss ; 
Ye guardian Pow'rs that rule my fate ! 
The only wish that I create 

Is all compris'd in this : 

May I through life's uncertain tide 

Be still from pain exempt ; 
May all my wants be still supply'd. 
My state too low t' admit of pride. 

And yet above contempt. 

But should your Providence divine 

A greater bliss intend ; 
May all those blessings you design 
(If e'er those blessings shall be mine) 

Be centred in a friend, merkick. 



VIRTUE AND ORNAMENT. 



THE diamond's and the ruby's rays 
Shine with a milder, finer flame. 

And more attract our love and praise. 
Than Beauty's self, if lost to fame. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 13 

But the sweet tear in Pity's eye 

Transcends the diamond's brightest beams ; 
And the soft blush of Modesty 

More precious than the ruby seems. 

The glowing gem, the sparkling stone, 
May strike the sight with quick surprise ; 

But Truth and Innocence alone 

Can still engage the good and wise. ' 

No glitt'ring ornament or show 

Will aught avail in grief or pain : 
Only from inward worth can flow 

Delight that ever shall remain. 

Behold, ye fair, your lovely Queen ! 

*Tis not her jewels, but her mind ; 
A meeker, purer, ne'er was seen ; 

It is her virtue charms mankind ! foedyci:- 



REFLECTIONS. 



AH ! who has power to say. 
To-morrow's sun shall warmer glow. 
And o'er this gloomy vale of woe 

Diffuse a brighter ray ? 

Ah ! who is ever sure. 
Though all that can the soul delight. 
This hour enchants the wond'ring sight. 

These raptures will endure ? 

Is there in Life's dull toil 
One certain moment of repose. 
One ray to dissipate our woes. 

And bid reflection smile ? 

What is the mind of man ? 
A chaos where the passions blend. 
Unconscious where the mass will end. 

Or when it first began ! 

In childhood's thoughtless hours 
We frolic through the sportive day ; 
Each path enchanting, sunny, gay. 

All deck'd with gaudy flow'rs ! 



CLASSICAL ENaLISH POETRY. 

In Life's maturer prime 
We wander still in search of Peace ; 
And, as our weary toils increase. 

Fade in the glooms of Time. 

From scene to scene we stray. 
Still courting Pleasure's fickle smile. 
While she, delighting to beguile. 

Still farther glides away. 

We seek Hope's gentle aid. 
We think the lovely Phantom pours 
Her balmy intense on those flow'rs. 

Which blossom but to fade ! 

We pant for glitt'ring Fame ; 
And when pale Envy blots the page 
That might have charm'd a future age. 

We find 'tis but a name. 

We toil for paltry ore. 
And when we gain the golden prize. 
And Death appears ! — with aching eye 

We view the useless store. 

We bask in Friendship's beam ; 
But when malignant cares assail. 
And Fortune's fickle favours fail. 

We find 'tis but a dream. 

We pine for idle Joy ; 
Intemp'rance leads to sure decay ; 
The brightest prospects fade away. 

The sweetest — soonest cloy ! 

How frail is Beauty's bloom ! 
The dimpled cheek — the sparkling eye. 
Scarce seen, before their wonders fly 

To decorate a tomb ! 

Then, since this fleeting breath 
Is but the zephyr of a day. 
Let conscience make each minute gay. 

And brave the shafts of death ; 

And let the gen'rous mind 
With Pity view the erring throng. 
Applaud the right, forgive the wrong. 

And feel for all mankind, robinson. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 3 5 

PLEASURES OP SENSIBILITY- 
LET not the vulgar read this pensive strain. 
Their jests the tender anguish would profane ; 
Yet these some deem the happiest of their kind. 
Whose low enjoyments never reach'd the mind : 
Who ne'er a pain but for themselves have known. 
Nor ever felt a sorrow but their own : 
Who call romantic every finer thought, 
Conceiv'd by pity, or by friendship wrought. 
Ah ! wherefore happy ? where's the kindred mind ? 
Where the large soul that takes in human kind ? 
Where the best passions of the mortal breast ? 
Where the warm blessing when another's blest ? 
Where the soft lenitives of others' pain. 
The social sympathy — the sense humane ? 
The sigh of rapture and the tear of joy. 
Anguish that charms, and transports that destroy ? 
For tender sorrow has her pleasures too. 
Pleasures which prosperous dulness never knew ! 
She never knew in all her coarser bHss 
The sacred rapture of a pain like this ! 
Nor thinks the cautious only are the just. 
Who never was deceived, I would not trust : 
Then take, ye happy vulgar ! take your part 
Of sordid joy that never touch'd the heart. 
Benevolence which seldom stays to choose. 
Lest pausing Prudence teach her to refuse ; 
Friendship, which once determin'd, never swerves. 
Weighs ere it trusts, but weighs not ere it serves. 
And soft-ey'd Pity and Forgiveness bland. 
And melting Charity with open hand, 
And artless Love believing and believ'd. 
And generciis Confidence which ne'er deceiv'd. 
And Mercy stretching out ere want can speak. 
To wipe the tear from pale Affliction's cheek. 
These ye have never known ! then take your part 
Of sordid joy v/hich never touch'd the heart. h. more. 



TO THE FEATHERED RACE. 

AGAIN the balmy zephyr blows. 
Fresh verdure decks the grove ; 

Each bird with vernal rapture glows 
And tunes his notes to love. 



16* CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Ye gentle warblers^ hither fly 

And shun the noon-tide heat ; 
My shrubs a cooling shade supply. 

My groves a safe retreat. 

Here freely hop from spray to spray. 

Or weave the mossy nest ; 
Here rove and sing the livelong day, 

At night here svreetly rest. 

Amidst this cool, translucent rill. 

That trickles down the glade, 
Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fiJl, 

And revel in the shade. 

No school-boy rude, to mischief prone. 

E'er shows his ruddy face. 
Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone. 

In this sequester'd place. 

Hither the vocal thrush repairs. 

Secure the linnet sings ; 
The goldfinch dreads no slimy snares, 

To clog her painted wings. 

Sad Philomel ! ah ! quit thy haunt. 

Yon distant woods among. 
And round my friendly grotto chant 

Thy sweetly plaintive song. 

Let not the harmless redbreast fear^ 

Domestic bird, to come 
And seek a sure asylum here. 

With one that loves his home. 

My trees for you, ye artless tribe. 

Shall store of fruit preserve ! 
O let me thus your friendship bribe ! 

Come, feed without reserve. 

For you these cherries I protect. 

To you these plums belong ; 
Sweet is the fruit that you have peck'd. 

But sweeter far your song. 

Let then this league betwLxt us made. 

Our mutual interest guard ; 
Mine be the gift of fruit and shade. 

Your songs be my reward. graves. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 17 

IGNORANCE OF MAN. 

BEHOLD yon new-bom infant, griev'd 

With hunger, thirst, and pain ; 
That asks to have the wants reliev'd. 

It knows not to complain. 

Aloud the speechless suppHant cries, 

And utters, as it can, • 
The woes that in its bosom rise. 

And speak its nature — Man. 

That infant, whose advancing hour 

Life's various sorrows try, 
(Sad proof of Sin's transmissive pow'r !) 

That infant. Lord ! am L 

A childhood yet my thoughts confess^ 

Tho' long in years mature, 
Unknowing whence I feel disti-ess. 

And where, or what, its cure. 

Author of Good ! to thee I turn : 

Thy ever- wakeful eye 
Alone can all my wants discern. 

Thy hand alone supply. 

O let thy fear within me dwell. 

Thy love my footsteps guide; 
That love shall vainer loves expel j 

That fear all fears beside. 

And O ! by Error's force subdu'd. 

Since oft my stubborn will, 
Prepost'rous, shuns the latent good. 

And grasps the specious ill ; 

Not to my wish, but to my want. 

Do thou thy gifts apply : 
Unask'd, what good thou knowest grant ; 

What ill, tho' ask'd, deny. merpick- 



RURAL LIFE. 



HAPPY the man, whose wish and care 

A few paternal acres bound. 
Content to breathe his native air 

In his own ground. 



IS CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread. 

Whose flocks supply him with attire ! 
Whose trees in summer yield him shade. 
In winter fire. 

Blest who can imconcern'dly find 

Hours, days, and years, slide soft away. 
In health of body, peace of mind. 
Quiet by day. 

Sound sleep by night ; study and ease 

Together raix'd ; sweet recreation. 
And innocence, which most does please. 
With meditation. 

- Thus let me live, unseen, unknown ! 
Thus unlamented let me die. 
Steal from the world, and not a stone 

Tell where I lie. pope. 



'^ THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. 

VITAL spark of heavenly flame ! 

Quit, oh quit this mortal frame : 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife. 
And let me languish into life. 

Hark ! they whisper ; angels say. 

Sister spirit, come away. 

What is this absorbs me quite. 

Steals my senses, shuts my sight. 
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath ? 
Tell me, my Soul, can this De Death ? 
The world recedes ! it disappears ! 
Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring : 
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount, I fly ! 
O Grave ! where is thy victory ? 

O Death ! where is thy sting ? 



FALSE GREATNESS. 

MYLO, forbear to call him blest 
That only boasts a large estate. 

Should all the treasures of the West 
Meet and conspire to make him great ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 19 

I know thy better thoughts, I know 
Thy reason can't descend eo low. 

Let a broad stream with golden sands 

Thro' all his meadows roll. 
He's but a wretch with all his lands. 

That wears a narrow soul. 

He swells amidst his wealthy store. 
And proudly poising what he weighs. 

In his own scale he fondly lays 
Huge heaps of shining ore. 

He spreads the balance wide to hold 

His manors and his farms. 
And cheats the beam with loads of gold 

He hugs between his arms. 

So might the plough-boy climb a tree. 

When Croesus mounts his throne. 
And both stand up, and smile to see 

How long their shadows grown. 
Alas ! how vain their fancies be. 

To think that shade their own ! 

Thus mingled still with wealth and state, 

Crcesus himself can never know ; 
His true dimensions and his weight 

Are far inferior to their show. 

Were I so tall to reach the pole. 

Or grasp the ocean with my span, 
I must be measur'd by my soul : 

The mind's the standard of the man. watts. 



OMNIPOTENCE. 

u, 

THE spacious firmament on high, 

W^ith all the blue ethereal sky, 

And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame, 

Their great original proclaim. 

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day. 

Does his Creator's power display. 

And publishes to ev'ry land 

The work of an Almighty hand. 



20 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Soon as the evening shades prevail. 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale. 
And nightly, to the list'ning earth, 
Repeats the story of her birth : 
Whilst all the stars that round her bum. 
And all the planets in their turn. 
Confirm the tidings as the}'^ roll. 
And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

What tho' in solemn silence, all 

Move round this dark terrestrial ball ; 

What tho' no real voice nor sound 

Amid their radiant orbs be found ; 

In Reason's ear they all rejoice. 

And utter forth a glorious voice. 

For ever singing as they shine, 

" The hand that made us is Divine." addison. 



DIVINE GllACE. 

CREATOR Spirit ! by whose aid 
The world's foundations first were laid. 
Come, visit every pious mind ; 
Come, pour thy joys on human kind ; 
From sin and sorrows set us free. 
And make thy temples worthy thee. 

O source of uncreated light. 
The Father's promis'd Paraclete ! 
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire. 
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire ; 
Come, and thy sacred unction bring 
To sanctify us, while we sing. 

Plenteous of grace ! descend from high. 
Rich in thy sevenfold energy ; 
Thou strength of his Almighty hand. 
Whose power does heaven and earth command t 
Proceeding Spirit, our defence. 
Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense. 
And crown'st the gift with eloquence. 

Refine and purge our earthly parts ; 
But, oh ! inflame and fire our hearts ; 
Our frailties help, our vice controul. 
Submit the senses to the soul : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 21 

And when rebellious they are grown, 
Then lay thy hand, and hold them down . 

Chase from our minds th' infernal loe, 
And peace, the fruits of love, bestow ; 
And, lest our feet should step astray, 
Protect and guide us in the way. 

Make us eternal truths receive^ 
And practise all that we believe : 
Give us thyself, that we may see 
The Father, and the Son, by thee. 

Immortal honour, endless fame. 
Attend th' Almighty Father's name : 
The Saviour Son be glorify'd. 
Who for lost man's redemption dy'd : 
And equal adoration be. 
Eternal Paraclete, to thee ! dryden. 



THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. 

FATHER of all ! in every age. 

In every clime ador'd. 
By saint, by savage, and by sage, 

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 

Thou great First Cause, least understood. 

Who all my sense confin'd 
To know but this, that thou art good. 

And that myself am blind ; 

Yet gave rae in this dark estate. 

To see the good from ill ; 
And, binding Nature fast in Fate, 

Left free the human will. 

What Conscience dictates to be done. 

Or warns me not to do. 
This, teach me more than hell to shun, 

That, more than heaven pursue. 

What blessings thy free bounty gives. 

Let me not cast away. 
For God is paid when man receives : 

To enjoy is to obey. 



22 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Yet not to earth's contracted span 

Thy goodness let me bound. 
Or think thee Lord alone of man. 

When thousand worlds are round. 

Let not this weak unknowing hand 

Presume thy bolts to throw. 
And deal damnation round the land 

On each I judge thy foe. 

If I am right, thy grace impart. 

Still in the right to stay ; 
If I am wrong, oh ! teach my heart 

To find that better way. 

Save me alike from foolish pride. 

Or impious discontent. 
At aught thy wisdom has deny'd. 

Or aught thy goodness lent. 

Teach me to feel another's woe, 

To hide the faults I see ; 
That mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. 

Mean tho' I am, not wholly so. 

Since quicken'd by thy breath ; 
O lead me wheresoe'er I go. 

Thro* this day's life or death. 

This day be bread and peace ray lot ; 

All else beneath the sun. 
Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not. 

And let thy will be done. 

To thee whose temple is all space. 

Whose altar, earth, sea, skies. 
One chorus let all beings raise. 

All Nature's incense rise. , > , yPOPE. 



A^-V^£- 



GRATITUDE. 

WHEN all thy mercies, O my God ! 

My rising soul surveys. 
Transported with the view, I'm lost 

In wonder, love, and praise. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY- 

O how shall words, with equal warmth. 

The gratitude declare. 
That glows within mj^ ravish'd heart ? 

But thou canst read it there. 

Thy Providence my life sustained, 

And all my wants rsdrest. 
When in the silent womb I lay. 

And hung upon the breast. 

To all my weak complaints and cries. 

Thy mercy lent an ear. 
Ere yet m}^ feeble thoughts had learnt 

To form themselves in pray'r. 

Unnumber'd comforts to my soul 

Thy tender care bestow'd. 
Before my infant heart conceiv'd 

From whom those comforts flow'd. 

When in the slipp'ry paths of youth. 

With heedless steps I ran, 
Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe. 

And led me up to man. 

Thro' hidden dangers, toils, and death. 

It gently clear'd ray- way ; 
And thro' the pleasing snares of vice. 

More to be fear'd than they. 

W^hen worn with sickness, oft hast thoii 
With health renew'd my face. 

And when in sin and son-ow sunk, 
Reviv'd my soul with grace. 

Thy bounteous hand, with worldly bliss, 
Has made my cup run o'er ; 

And, in a kind and faithful friend; 
Has doubled all my store. 

Ten thousand, thousand precious gifts. 

My daily thanks employ ; 
Nor is the least, a cheerful heart. 

That tastes those gifts with joy. 

Thro' ev'ry period of my life. 

Thy goodness I'll pursue ; 
And after death, in distant worlds. 

The glorious theme renew. 



24 <?lASsiCAi/'M&ifis#¥^Tfty; 

When Nature fails, and day arid night - 

Divide thy works no more. 
My ever-grateful heart, O Lord ! ;-- >^ 

Thy mercy shall ador^ ^^^^^ ^uiiT 

Thro' all eternity, to Thee^- ' 

A joyful song I'll raise ; 
For O ! Eternity's too short 

To utter all thy praise. Addison. 



HOPE AND FEAR. 

WHERE shall our Hope and Fear their objects find.? 
Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mirtd ? 
Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, .^ 

Fall darkling down the torrent of his fate } ] '^* 
Must no dislike alarm — no wishes rise ? . 7 _ 
No cries invoke the mercies of the skies? : 
Inquirer cease — petitions yet remain, , . 

WTiich heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vaiffi 
Still raise for good the supplicating voice, ., , 
But leave to heav'n the measure and the choice,; 
Safe in his pow'r whose eyes discern afar, ' 
The secret ambush of a specious pray'rl . ,^4 
Implore his aid — in his decisions rest '* 

Secure — whate'er he gives he gives the best ; , 7^ 
Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires^ 
And sti'ong devotion to the sky aspires. 
Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind. 
Obedient passions and a will resign'd ; 
For Love, which scarce collective man can fill. 
For Patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill : 
For Faith, that panting for a happier seat. 
Counts Death kind Nature's signal for retreat. 
These goods for man the laws of heav'n ordain. 
These goods he grants who grants the power to gain. 
With these celestial Wisdom calms the mind, ^ 
And makes the happiness she does not fmd! johnson. 



SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY ALEXANDER SELKIRK, 
During his solitary abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez. 
- / I AM monarch of all I survey, 
^ My right there is none to dispute ; 

From the centre all round to the sea, 
I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 25 

Solitude ! where are the charms 
That sages have seen in thy face? 

Better dwell in the midst of alarms. 
Than reign in this horrible place. 

1 am out of Humanity's reach, 

I must finish my journey alone ; 
Never hear the sweet music of speech ; 

I start at the sound of ray own. 
The beasts that roam over the plain 

My form with indifference see : 
They are so unacquainted with man. 

Their tameness is shocking to me. , 

Society, friendship, and love. 

Divinely bestow'd upon man, 
O had I the wings of a dove. 

How soon would I taste you again ! 
My sorrows I then might assuage 

In the way of Religion and Truth; 
Might learn from the wisdom of age. 

And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. 

Religion ! what treasure untold 

Resides in that heavenly word ! 
More precious than silver or gold. 

Or all that this earth can afford. 
But the sound of the church-going bell 

These valleys and rocks never heard, 
Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell, 

Or smil'd when a Sabbath appear'd. 

S Ye winds that have made me your sport. 

Convey to this desolate shore 
Some cordial endearing report 

Of a land I shall visit no more. 
My friends, do they now and then send 

A wish or a thought after me ? 
O tell me I yet have a friend, 

Tho' a fi-iend I am never to see ! 

C How fleet is a glance of the mind ! 

Compar'd with the speed of its flight. 
The tempest itself lags behind. 

And the swift-winged arrows of light 

C 



2§ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

When I think of my own native land. 
In a moment I seem to be there ; 

But, alas ! recollection at hand 
Soon hurries me back to despair. 

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest. 

The beast is laid down in his lair ; 
Ev'n here is a season of rest. 

And I to my cabin repair. 
There's mercy in every place ; 

And mercy (encouraging thought !) 
Gives even affliction a grace, 

And reconciles man to his lot. cowper. 



'f 



//? 



THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 



YE citadels of light and seats of gods. 

Perhaps my future home, from whence the soul 

Revolving periods past may oft look back 

With recollected tenderness on all 

The various busy scenes she left below. 

Its deep-laid projects, and its strange events. 

As on some fond and doating tale that sooth'd 

Her infant hours. — O ! be it lawful now 

To tread the hallow'd circle of your courts. 

And with mute wonder and delighted awe. 

Approach your burning confines. Seiz'd in thought 

On fancy's wild and roving wing, I sail 

From the green borders of the peopled Earth, : 

And the pale Moon her duteous fair attendant ; 

From solitary Mars, from the vast orb 

Of Jupiter, whose huge gigantic bulk 

Dances in ether like the lightest leaf 

To the dim verge the suburbs of the system ; 

Where cheerless Saturn, 'mid his wat'ry moons. 

Girt with a lucid zone, majestic sits 

In gloomy grandeur, like an exil'd queen 

Amongst her weeping handmaids : fearless thence 

I launch into the trackless deeps of space. 

Where burning round ten thousand suns appear 

Of elder beam, which ask no leave to shine 

Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow light 

From the proud regent of our scanty day. 

Sons of the morning ! first born of creation ! 



CLASSICAt. ENGLISH POETllY. 27 

And only less than Him who marks their track 

And guides their fiery wheels. Here must I stop — 

Or, is there aught beyond ? What hand unseen 

Impels me onward thro' the glowing orbs 

Of habitable nature far remote. 

To the dread confines of eternal night ; 

To solitudes of vast unpeopled space, 

The deserts of creation wide and wild ; 

Where embryo systems and unkindled suns 

Sleep in the womb of Chaos ? Fancy droops : 

And Thought, astonished, stops her bold career ! 

But O ! thou mighty Mind ! whose powerful word 

Said — " Thus let all things be, and thus they were !" 

Where shall I seek thy presence? how unblam'd 

Invoke thy dread perfection ? 

Have the broad eye-lids of the morn beheld thee ? 

Or does the beamy shoulder of Orion 

Support thy throne ? O look with pity down 

On erring guilty man ! — not in thy names 

Of terror clad — not with those thunders arm'd 

That conscious Sinai felt when fear appall'd 

The scatter'd tribes ! Thou hast a gentler voice 

That whispers comfort to the swelling heart, 

Abash'd, yet longing to behold her Maker ! 

But now my soul unus'd to stretch her pow'rs 

In flights so daring, drops her weary wing, 

And seeks again the known accustom'd spot, 

Drest up with sun and shade, and lawns and streams, 

A mansion fair, and spacious for its guest. 

And full replete with wonders! Let me here 

Content and grateful wait the appointed time. 

And ripen for the skies : — ^the hour will come 

When all these splendours bursting on my sight. 

Shall stand unveil'd, and to my ravish'd sense 

Unlock the glories of the World unknown ! 

BARBAULD, 



THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 



FAINTLY bray'd the battle's roar. 
Distant down the hollow wind ; 

Panting Terror fled before. 

Wounds and Death were left behind. 

C2 



28 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The war-fiend curs'd the sunken da^^a iesiC 

-That check'd his fierce pursuit too so6n ; 
While, scarcely lighting to the prey. 

Low hung, and lour'd, the bloody moon. 

The field, so late the hero's pride. 

Was now with various carnage spread ; 

And floated with a crimson tide. 

That drench'd the dying and the dead. 

. - O'er the sad scene of dreariest \dew, 
Abandoned all to horrors wild, 
With frantic step Maria flew — 
Maria, Sorrow's early child 

By duty led, for every vein 

Was warm'd by Hymen's purest flame ! 
With Edgar, o'er the wint'ry main. 

She, lovely, faithful wanderer, came. 

For well she thought, a friend so dear 
In darkest hours might joy impart ; 

Her warrior, faint with toil, might cheer. 
Or soothe her bleeding warrior's smart. 

Tho' look'd for long — in chill affright, 
(The torrent bursting ft-om her eye,) 

She heard the signal for the fight — r 
While her soul trembled in a sigh : 

She heard, and clasp'd him to her breast. 
Yet scarce could urge th' inglorious stay ; 

His manly heart the charm confest— 

Then broke the charm, and rush'd away» 

Too soon, in few but deadly words. 
Some flying straggler breath'd to tell. 

That in the foremost strife of swords 
The young, the gallant Edgar fell. 

She press'd to hear — she caught the tale — 
At every sound her blood congeal'd ; 
With terror bold — ^with terror pale. 
She sprung to search the fatal field. 

O'er the sad scene in dire amaze 

She went — with courage not her own— ^ 

On many a corpse she cast her gaze — 
And turn'd her ear to many a groan. ^ 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH PGETRVP 2§ 

Drear anguish urged her to press " ^-^-'^' ©^l 
Full many a hand, as wild she mouni'd; — 

Of comfort glad, the drear caress 

The damp, cliill, dying hand return'd. - 

Her ghastly hope was well nigh fled— 
When late pale Edgar's form she found, 

Half-bury'd with the hostile dead. 
And bor'd with many a grisly wound. 

She knew — she sunk— the night-bird scream'd, — 
The moon withdrew her troubled light. 

And left the fair — tho' fall'n she seem'd— 
To worse than death — and deepest ni^ht ? 

/ PENROSE. 



/^ TRUE WISDOM. 

O HAPPY is the man who heai*s 

Instruction's warning voice. 
And who celestial Wisdom makes 

His early, only choice ! 

For she has treasures greater far 

Than east or west unfold. 
And her reward is more secure 

Than is the gain of gold. 

Ill her right hand she holds to view 

A lengtli of happy years ; 
And in her left, the prize of fame 

And honour bright appears. 

She guides the young, with innocence. 

In Pleasure's path to tread ; 
A crown of glory she bestows 

Upon the hoary head. 

According as her labours rise. 

So her rewards increase ; 
Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 

And all her paths ai-e peace. ^ logan.^^^ 



ODE on the spring. , 

LO ! where the rosy-bosom'd hours. 
Fair Venus' train, appear, 
Disclose the long-expected flowers. 
And wake the purple year I 

C3 



rv 



// 



so CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETHS" , 

The Attic warbler pours her throat. 
Responsive to the cuckoo's note. 
The untaught harmony of Spring ; 
While, whispering pleasure as they fly. 
Cool zephyrs thro* the clear blue sky 
Their gathered fragrance fling. 

Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch 
A broader, browner shade ; 
Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech 
O'er- canopies the glade ; 
Beside some water's rushy brink 
With me the muse shall sit, and think 
(At ease reclin'd in rustic state) 
How vain the ardour of the crowd ! 
How low, how little are the proud I 
How indigent the great ! 

Still is the toiling hand of Care, 

The panting herds repose ; 

Yet, hark, how thro' the peopled air 

The busy murmur glows ! 

The insect youth are on the wing. 

Eager to taste the honey'd Spring, 

And float amid the liquid noon : 

Some lightly o'er the current skim ; 

Some show their gaily gilded trim 

Quick glancing to the sun. 

To Contemplation's sober eye 

Such is the race of man ; 

And they that creep, and they that fly. 

Shall end where they began. 

Alike the busy and the gay 

But flutter thro' life's little daj^ 

In Fortune's varying colours drest : 

Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance. 

Or chill'd by age, their airy dance 

They leave, in dust to rest. 

Methinks I hear in accents low 

The sportive kind reply ; 

Poor moralist ! and what art thou ? 

A solitary fly ! 

Thy joys no glittering female greets. 

No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. SI 

No painted plumage to display : 

On hasty v^ings thy youth is flown. 

Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — 

We frolic while 'tis May. gray. 



LINES FROM SENECA. 

THE dizzy dome be his who will : 

Be mine the shade, obscure and still. 

Here while the great in public pine. 

Be dulcet rest and leisure mine. 

Unknown to all the sons of pride. 

Smooth may ray hours in silence glide. 

So, when the close of life draws near. 

Without a trouble or a fear, 

Unnotic'd by the v/orld, may I 

An aged but a poor man die ! 

Heavy the stroke of death must fall 

On him who, conversant with all. 

Where'er he turns his anxious eyes. 

Yet to himself a stranger, dies ! polwhele. 



THE HERMITAGE. 

A LITTLE lowly Hermitage it was, 

Down in a dale, hard by a forest side. 
Far from resort of people that did pass 

In travel to and fro ! a httle wide 
There was a little chapel edified. 

Wherein the hermit duty went to say 
His holy things, each mom and even-tide : 
Thereby a crystal stream did gently play. 
Which from a sacred fountain welled forth away. 

He thence led me into this Hermitage, 

Letting his steeds to graze upon the green ; 
Small was his house, and like a little cage 

For his own turn ; yet inly neat and clean, 
Deck'd with green boughs, and flowers gay beseenie; 

Therein he them full fair did entertain. 
Not with such forged shows as fitter beene 

For courtly fools, that courtesies would feign. 
But with entire affection, and appearance plain. 

SPENSER. 

C 4 ■■ 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



THE BOY AND THE RAINBOW. 

DECLARE, ye sages, if ye find 
'Mongst animals of ev'ry kind. 
Of each condition, sort, and size, 
From whales and elephants to flieS;, 
A creature that mistakes his plan. 
And errs so constantly as Man ? 
Each kind pursues his proper good. 
And seeks for pleasure, rest, and food 
As Nature points, and never errs 
In what it chooses and prefers ; 
Man only blunders, tho' possest 
Of talents far above the rest. 

The happiness of human kind 
Consists in rectitude of mind, 
A will subdu'd to Reason's sway. 
And passions practis'd to obey ; 
An open and a gei/rous heart, 
iRefin'd from selfishness and art ; 
Patience which mocks at Fortune's pow'r. 
And Wisdom never sad nor sour : 
In these consists our proper bliss. 
Else Plato reasons much amiss. 
But foolish mortals still pursue 
False happiness in place of true : 
Ambition serves us for a guide. 
Or lust, or avarice, or pride ; 
While Reason no assent can gain. 
And Revelation warns in vain. 
Hence, thro' our lives, in ev'ry stage 
From infancy itself to age, 
A happiness we toil to find. 
Which still avoids us like the wind ; 
Ev'n when we think the prize our own, 
At once 'tis vanish'd, lost and gone. 
You'll ask me why I thus rehearse 
All Epictetus in my verse. 
And if I fondly hope to please 
With dry reflections such as these. 
So trite, so hackney'd, and so stale ?— 
I'll take the hint and tell a tale. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 3^ 

One ev'ning as a simple swain 
His fiock attended on the plain, ^ 
The shining Bow he chanc'd to spy, 
Which warns us when a show'r is nigh ; 
With brightest rays it seem'd to glow, 
Its distance eighty yards or so. 
This bumpkin had, it seems, been told 
The story of the cup of gold. 
Which Fame reports is to be found 
Just where the Rainbow meets the grouna 
He therefore felt a sudden itch 
To seize the goblet, and be rich ! 
Hoping (yet hopes are oft but vain) 
No more to toil thro' wind and rain. 
But sit indulgent by the fire, 
'Midst ease and plenty, like a squire. 
He mark'd the very spot of land 
On which the Rainbow seem'd to stand. 
And stepping forwards at his leisure. 
Expected to have found the treasure. 
But as he mov'd, the colour'd ray 
Still chang'd its place, and slipt away 
As seeming his approach to shun. 
From walking he began to run ; 
But all in vain, it still withdrew 
As nimbly as he could pursue. 
At last, thro' many a bog and lake. 
Rough craggy rock, and thorny brake, 
It led the easy fool till night 
Approach'd, then vanish'd in his sight. 
And left him to compute his gains. 
With nought but labour for his pains. wilkie. 



CHARITY SCHOOLS. 



LET not a form which bears your Maker's image 
Defeat the end of being :— know 'tis yours 
In heav'nly tints to dip the infant soul— 
To raise the new idea — lift it high, 
Ey'n to Jehovah's throne : the ductile mind,. 
Pliant as wax, shall' wear the mould you give. ' 
Sharp gratitude you've call'd to life shall cut 
In ciphers deep the new expanded heart ; 
And ev'n beyond the chambers of the grave 

C5 



M CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The joyous spirit shall your records bear. 

To meet your eyes when trembling worlds expire ! 

What then shall live or stand in that dread hour 

But acts like these, when panting spirits call 

For every little test to aid their plea ? 

May yours resound, supported in the blast 

By grateful infants and by ripen'd man. 

To whom you gave perfection ! Angels smile. 

And songs of glory shake the vault of heaven ! 

ANN YEARSLEY, 



THE ROSE. 

THE Rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a show'r^ 

Which Mary to Anna convey'd, 
The plentiful moisture incumbered the flower. 

And weighed down its beautiful head. 

The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet. 

And it seem'd to a fanciful view. 
To weep for the buds it had left with regret. 

On the flourishing bush where it grew, 

I hastily seiz'd it, unfit as it was 

For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd. 

And swinging it rudely (too rudely, alas !) 
I snapp'd it, — it fell to the ground. 

And such, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part 

Some act by the delicate mind. 
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart 

Already to sorrow resign'd. 

This elegant Rose, had I shaken it less. 

Might have bloom'd with its owner awhile ; 

And the tear that is wip'd, with a little address, 

May be followed, perhaps, by a smile. eowpEs. 



Life. 



O WHY do wretched men so much desire 
To draw their days into the utmost date. 

And do not rather wish them soon expire. 
Knowing the misery of their estate. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 35 

And thousand perils which them still await. 
Tossing them like a boat amid the main. 

That every hour they knock at death's gate? 
And he that happy seems at least in pain. 
Is yet as nigh his end as he that most doth plain. 

The whiles some one did chaunt their lovely lay. 
Ah see, who so fair thing dost fain to see. 

In springing flower the image of thy day ; 
All see the virgin rose how sweetly she 
Doth first peep forth with bashful modesty. 

That fairer seems, the less you see her may ; 
Lo ! see soon after, how more bold and free 

Her bared bosom she doth broad display ! 

Lo ! see, soon after, how she fades and falls away. 

So passeth, in the passing of a day. 

Of mortal Life the leaf, the bud, the flower, 

No more doth flourish after first decay. 

That erst was sought to deck both bed and bower 
Of many a lady, and many a paramour : 

Gather the rose of love whilst yet is time. 

While loving thou may'st loved be without a crime. 

SPENSER. 



THE HAMLET. 



THE hinds how blest, who ne'er beguil'd 
To quit their Hamlet's hawthorn- wild. 
Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main. 
For splendid care and guilty gain ! 

When morning's twilight-tinctur'd beam 
Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam. 
They rove abroad in ether blue. 
To dip the sithe in fragi'aut dew ; 
The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell. 
That, nodding, shades a craggy dell. 

'Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear. 
While Nature's sweetest notes they hear. 
On green untrodden banks they view 
The hyacinth's neglected hue. 
In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds. 
They spy the squirrel's airy bounds ; 

6 



36 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

And startle from her ashen spray. 
Across the glen, the screaming jay. 
Each native charm their steps explore 
Of Solitude's sequester'd store. 

For them the moon, with cloudless ray. 
Mounts to illume their homeward way ; 
Their weary spirits to relieve. 
The meadows incense breathe at eve. 
No riot mars the simple fare 
That o'er a glimmering hearth they share ; 
But when the curfew's measur'd roar 
Duly, the darkening valleys o'er. 
Has echoed from the distant town. 
They wish no beds of cygnet-down. 
No trophied canopies, to close 
Their drooping eyes in quick repose. 

Their little sons, who spread the bloom 
Of health around the clay-built room. 
Or thro' the primros'd coppice stray, 
Or gambol in the new-mown hay. 
Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine, 
Or drive afield the tardy kine : 
Or hasten from the sultry hill 
To loiter at the shady rill ; 
Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest, 
To rob the ancient raven's nest. 

Their humble porch with honey'd flowers 
The curling woodbine's shade embowers : 
From the small garden's thymy mound 
Their bees in busy swarms resounds 
Nor fell Disease, before his time. 
Hastes to consume Life's golden prim« : 
But when their temples long have wore 
The silver crown of tresses hoar ; 
As studious still calm peace to keep. 
Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. warton. 



THE winter nosegay. 

WHAT Nature, alas ! has denied 
To the delicate growth of our Isle, 

Art has in a measure supplied. 

And Winter is deck'd with a smile. 



GliASBlCAL ENGLISH POETRY. 3 / 

'Tis a bower of Arcadian sweets, lnB:ra £)K 

Where Flora is till in her prime, 
A fortress to which she retreats 

From the cruel assaults of the clime. 

While earth wears a mantle of snow. 

The pinks are as fresh and as gay 
As the fairest and sweetest that blow 

On the beautiful bosom of May. 

See how they have safely survived 

The frowns of a sky so severe ; 
Such Mary's true love, that has liv'd 

Thro' many a turbulent year. 

The charms of the late-blowing rose 

Seem pac'd with a livelier hue. 
And the winter of soitow but shows 

The truth of a friend such as you. cowper. 



THE YOUNG LADY AND THE LOOKlNG-GLvlSS. 

THERE was a little stubborn dame 
Whom no authority could tame ; 
Restive by long indulgence grown. 
No will she minded but her own : 
At trifles oft she'd scold and fret. 
Then in a corner take a seat. 
And sourly moping all the day, 
Disdain alike to work or play. 
Papa all softer arts had try'd. 
And sharper remedies apply'd ; 
But both were vain, for every course 
He took still made her worse and worse. 
'Tis strange to think how female wit 
So oft should make a lucky hit. 
When man, with all his high pretence 
, To deeper judgment, sounder sense. 
Will err, and measures false pursue ! 
'Tis very strange, I own, but true. 
Mamma observ'd the rising lass 
By stealth retiring to the glass. 
To practise little airs unseen. 
In the true genius of thirteen : 
On this a deep design she laid 
To tarae the humour of the maid : 



SB CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Contriving, like a prudent mother, 

To make one folly cure another. 

Upon the wall against the seat. 

Which Jessy us'd for her retreat. 

Whene'er by accident offended, 

A Looking-glass was straight suspended. 

That it might show her how deform'd 

She look'd and frightful when she storm'd ; 

And warn her, as she priz'd her beauty. 

To bend her humour to her duty : 

All this the Looking-glass achiev'd. 

Its threats were minded and believ'd. 

The maid, who spurn'd at all advice. 
Grew tame and gentle in a trice : 
So when all other means had fail'd. 
The silent monitor prevail'd. 

Thus, fable to the human kind 
Presents an image of the mind : 
It is a mirror, where we spy 
At large our own deformity. 
And learn, of course, those faults to mend. 
Which but to mention would offend. wilkie. 



THE CHARACTER OF LELIUS. 

YON spacious dome, which earth and sea commands. 

Where Lelius dresses his paternal lands ; 

Where water gushes, and where wood extends. 

To share each beauty, Lelius calls his friends ;— 

A desert scene, till they adorn his bowers; 

A naked waste, till they partake his flowers ; 

Nor this, though sweet, the greatest bliss he feels. 

That greatest bliss his modesty conceals. 

Pass the green slope which bounds his fair domain. 

And seek the valley, dropping from the plain. 

There, in a blossom'd nook, by pomp unseen. 

An aged couple lead a life serene ; 

And there behind those elms, a sickly pair 

Exchange their labours for a softer care : 

'Twas Lelius gave to sickness this repose. 

And plac'd life's second cradle near the rose. 

Though louder joys in his own hall prevail, 

A dearer transport whispers from the vale; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. SQ 

Though mirth and frolic echo through the dome, 

In those small cots his bosom finds a home. 

Fame, fortune, friends — can providence give more ? 

Go, ask of Heav'n the blessings of the poor ! 

Would you a greater comfort still supply ? 

Go, wipe the tear from Sorrow's streaming eye ; 

For social kindness to another shewn. 

Expands the bliss to make it more your own. pratt. 



FAREWELL TO LIFE. 

Now spring returns — but not to me returns 
The vernal joy my better years have known ; 

Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, 
And all the joys of life with health are flown : 

Starting and shiv'ring in th' inconstant wind, 
Meagre and pale the ghost of what I was ; 

Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclin'd. 

And count the silent moments as they pass ; 

The winged moments, whose unstaying speed 
No art can stop, or in their course arrest ; 

Whose flight shall shortly count me with the dead. 
And lay me down in peace with them that rest ' 

Oft morning-dreams presage approaching fate. 
And morning-dreams, as poets tell, are true : 

Led by pale ghosts I enter death's dark gate. 
And bid the realms of light and life adieu ! 

I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of woe ; 

I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore. 
The sluggish streams that slowly creep below. 

Which mortals visit and return no more ! 

Farewell ye blooming fields ! ye cheerful plains ! 

Enough for me the church-yard's lonely mound, 
Where Melancholy, with still Silence reigns. 

And the rank grass weaves o'er the cheerless ground ! 

There let me wander at the shut of eve. 

When sleep sits heavy on the labourer's eyes ; 

The world and all its busy follies leave. 

And talk with Wisdom where my Daphnis lies ! 



40 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

There let me sleep forgotten in the clay. 

When Death shall shut these weary-aching eyes; 

Kest in the hopes of an — Eternal Day, 

Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise ! 

^*'^'' '^ ^ BRUCE. 



THE RAVEN. 

A RAVEN, while with glossy breast 

Her new-laid eggs she fondly pressed. 

And on her wicker-work high mounted, 

Her chickens prematurely counted, 

(A fault philosophers might blame. 

If quite exempted from the same,) 

Enjoy'd at ease the genial day : 

'Twas April, as the bumpkins say : 

But suddenly a wind as high 

As ever swept a winter sky. 

Shook the young leaves about her ears. 

And fiird her with a thousand fears. 

Lest the rude blast should snap the bough, 

And spread her golden hopes below. 

But just at eve the blowing weather. 
And all her fears were hush'd together : 
" And now," quoth poor unthinking Ralph, 
" 'Tis over, and the brood is safe." 
(For Ravens, tho' as birds of omen. 
They teach both conj rors and old women 
To tell us what is to befal. 
Can't prophesy themselvas at all.) 
The morning came, when neighbour Hodge, 
Who long had mark'd his airy lodge. 
And destin'd all the treasure there 
A gift to his expecting fair, 
Climb'd like a squirrel to his prey. 
And bore the worthless prize away. 

MORAL. 

'Tis Providence alone secures. 

In every change, both mine and yours. 

Safety consists not in escape 

From dangers of a frightful shape : 

An earthquake may be bid to spare 

The man that's strangled by a hair. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. , 41 

Fate steals along with silent tread, n^dW 

Found oft'nest in what least we dread; .^ ^^ i^^cf 
Frowns in the storm with angry brow, 

But in the sunshine strikes the blow. cowpEB. 



TO A SNOW-DROP. 

POETS still, in graceful numbers. 
May the glowing roses choose ; 

But the Snow-drop's simple beauty 
Better suits an humble Muse. 

Earliest bud that decks the garden. 

Fairest of the fragrant race. 
First-born child of vernal Flora, 

Seeking mild thy lowly place ; 

Tho' no warm or murmuring zephyr 
Fan thy leaves with balmy wing, 

Pleas'd we hail thee, spotless blossom. 
Herald of the infant Spring. 

Thro' the cold and cheerless s6ason 
Soft thy tender form expands. 

Safe in unaspiring graces. 

Foremost of the bloomy bands. 

White-rob'd flower, in lonely beauty. 

Rising from a wintry bed ; 
Chilling winds, and blasts ungenial. 

Rudely threat'ning round thy head. 

Silv'ry bud, thy pensile foliage 
Seems the angry blasts to fear ; 

Yet secure, thy tender texture 
Ornaments the rising year. 

No warm tints, or vivid col'ring, 
Paint thy bells with gaudy pride ; 

Mildly charm'd, we seek thy fragrance. 
Where no thorns insidious hide. 

'Tis not thine, with flaunting beauty 
To attract the roving sight ; 

Nature, from her varied wardrobe. 
Chose thy vest of purest white. 



42 CLASSICAL k^GLia-a. tOETftV. 

White, as falls the fleecy shower. 
Thy soft form in sweetness grows ; 

Not more fair the valley's treasure. 
Not more sweet her hly blows. 

Drooping harbinger of Flora, 

Simply are thy blossoms drest ; 
Artless as the gentle virtues 

Mansion'd in the blameless breast. 

When to pure and timid virtue 
Friendship twines a votive wreath, 

O'er the fair selected garland 

Thou thy perfume soft shall breathe. 

LANGHORNE. 



THE muse; or, POETICAL ENTHUSIASM. 

THE Muse I v/hate'er the Muse inspires. 

My soul the tuneful strain admires. 

The Poet*s birth I ask not v/here. 

His place, his name, they're not my care. 

Nor Greece, nor Rome, delight me more 

Than Tagus' bank, or Thames's shore. 

From silver Avon's flowery side, 

Tho' Shakspeare's numbers sweetly glide. 

As sweet from Morven's desert hills 

My ear the voice of Ossian fills. 

The Muse ! whate'er the Muse inspires. 
My soul the tuneful strain admires. 
Nor bigot zeal, nor party rage. 
Prevail, to make me blame the page. 
I scorn not all that Dryden sings, 
Because he flatters Courts and Kings ; 
And from the master-lyre of Gray 
When pomp of music breaks away. 
Not less the sound my notice draws. 
For that is heard in Freedom's cause. 

The Muse ! whate'er the Muse inspires. 
My soul the tuneful strain admires. 
Where Wealth's bright sun propitious shines. 
No added lustre marks the lines ; 
Where Want extends her chilling shades. 
No pleasing flower of fancy fades 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH FOETHY. 43 

A scribbling Peer's applauding lays 
Might claim, but claim in vain, my praise. 
From that poor youth, whose tales relate 
Sad Juga's fears, and Bawdin's fate. 

The Muse ! whate'er the Muse inspires. 
My soul the tuneful strain admires. 
When Fame her wreaths well-earn'd bestows. 
My breast no latent envy knows ; 
My Langhorne's verse I love to hear. 
And Beattie's song delights my ear; 
And his whom Athens' tragic maid 
Now leads thro' Scarning's lonely glade ; 
While he for British nymphs bids flow 
Her notes of terror and of woe. 

The Muse ; whate'er the Muse inspires. 
My soul the tuneful strain admires : 
Or be the verse, or blank, or rhyme. 
The theme, or humbler, or sublime ; 
If Pastoral's hand my journey leads 
Thro' harvest-fields, or new-mown meads ; 
If Epic's voice sonorious calls 
To ffita's cliffs, or Salem's walls ; 
Enough — the Muse, the Muse inspires ! 
My sGul the tuneful strain admires, scott. 



THE INFLUENCE OF HOPE. 

AT Summer eve, when Heav'n's aerial bow 
Spans with bright arch the glittering fields below. 
Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye. 
Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky ? 
Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear 
More sweet than all the landscape smiling near? 
*Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. 
And robes the mountain in its azure hue. 
Thus with delight we linger to survey 
The promis'd joys of life's unmeasur'd way ; 
Thus from afar each dim-discover'd scene 
More pleasing seems than all the past hatli been ! 
And every form that Fancy can repair 
From dark oblivion, glows divinely there. 

What potent spirit guides the raptur'd eye 
To pierce the shades of dim futurity ? 



■ 4,4. ^C^SfCAlf TH'fidxIsfl^lJTii'V^. 

Can Wisdom lend, with all its heav'nly power, 

The pledge of Joy's anticipated hour? 

Ah! no; she darkly sees the fate of man — 

Her dim horizon bocinded to a span ; 

Or if she hold an image to the view, 

Tis nature pictur'd too severely true. 

With thee, sweet Hope, resides the heav'nly light, 
That pours remotest rapture on the sight; 
Thine is the charm of life's bewilder'd way. 
That calls each slumbering passion into play* 
Wak'd by thy touch, I see the sister band. 
On tiptoe watching, start at thy command. 
And fly where'er thy mandate bids them steer. 
To Pleasure's path, or Glory's bright career. 

Primeval Hope, the Aonian Muses say. 
When man and nature mourn'd their first decsiy, 
When every form of death and every woej 
Shot from malignant stars to earth below. 
When Murder bar'd her arm, and rampant War 
Yok'd the red dragons of her iron car. 
When Peace and Mercy, banish'd from the plain. 
Sprung on the viewless winds to Heav'n again — 
All, all forsook the friendless guilty mind. 
But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind. 

Thus, while Elijah's burning wheels prepaid ^S'O 
From Carmel's height to sweep the fields of aii^ tsK 
The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, .sD sdT 
Dropt on the world — a sacred gift to man.uayi hnh 

Auspicious Hope ! in thy sweet garden grow ;|' 
Wreaths for each toil, a charm for every woei j 
Won by their sweets, in nature's languid hour, 
The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bow'r; 
There, as the wild bee murmurs on the wing. 
What peaceful dreams thy handmaid spirits bring ! 
What viewless forms th' iEolian organ play, 
And sweep the furrow'd linesof anxious thought aw^^y. 

;; %tmM aM \ifx • ^ -^ ®^ slid w A 
:;5Jq3-^,^ a^rfl iMsA 



CHILDHOOD. -^^ 

CHILDHOOD, happiest stage of life! 
Free from care, and free from strife ; 1 1 

Free from Memory's ruthless reign, 

Fraught with scenes of former pain ; "" 

Free from Fancy's cruel skill, 
■ Fabricating future ill : 
Time, when all that meets the view. 
All can charm for aU is new, 4 

How thy long-lost hours I mourn. 
Never, never to return ! 

Then to toss the circling ball, ^ 

Caught rebounding from the wall ; T 

Then the mimic ship to guide 

Down the kennel's dirty tide ; 

Then the hoop's revolving pace 

Through the dirty street to ciias^ : 

O what joy ! — it once was mine. 

Childhood, matchless boon of thine ! 

How thy long-lost hours I mourn. 

Never, never to return ! scott. 



THE CURATE. 

O'ER the pale embers of a dying fire. 

His little lampe fed vdth but little oile, * 

The Curate sate (for scantie was his hire). 

And ruminated sad the morrowe's toil. 

'Twas Sunday's eve, meet season to prepare 
The stated lectures of the coming tyde ; 

No day of rest to him, but day of cai'e. 

At manie a churcli to preach with tedious ride. 

Before him sprede his various sermons lay, :.- 

Of explanation deepe, and sage advice ; ' *^j f 

The harvest gain'd from manie a thoughtful day'e,' ' 
The fruit of learninge, bought with heavy price. 

On these he cast a fond, but tearful eye. 

Awhile he paus'd, for sorrowe stopp'd his throte; 

Arrous'd at lengthe, he heav'd a bitter sighe. 
And thus complainde, as well indeed he mote : 



45 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

" Hard is the scholar's lot, condemn'd to sail 
" Unpatroniz'd o'er Life's tempestuous wave ; 

" Clouds blind his sight, nor blows a friendly gale, 
" To waft him to one port — except the grave. 

" Big with presumptive hope, I launch'd ray keele, 
" With youthful ardour, and bright science fi*aughte ; 

" Unanxious of the pains long doom'd to feel, 

'' Unthinking that the voyage might end in noughte. 

" Pleas'd, on the summer sea I daunc'd awhile, 
" With gay companions, and with views as fair ; 

" Ontstripp'd by these, I'm left to humble toil, 
" My fondest hope abandon'd in despair. 

" Had my ambitious mind been led to rise 
'" To highest flights, to crossier and to pall, 

'* Scarce could I mourn the missinge of the prize, 
" I'or soaring wishes well deserve their fall. 

^' No tow'ring thoughts like these engag'd my breast 
" I hop'd (nor blame, ye proud, the lowly plan) 

*' Some little cove, some parsonage of rest, 
'' The scheme of duty suited to the man. 

" Where, in my narrow sphere secure, at ease, 
"' From vile dependence free, I might remain ; 

^' The guide to good, the counsellor of peace, 
" The friend^ the shepherd, of the village sw*ain. 

" Yet cruel Fate denied the small request, 
" And bound me fast, in one ill-omen'd hour, 

" Beyond the chance of remedie, to reste 

" The slave of wealthie pride and priestlie pow'r. 

'' Oft, as in russet weeds I scour along, 

" In distant chappels hastilie to pray ; 
" By nod scarce notic'd o? the passinge thronge ; 

" 'Tis but the Curate, every childe will say. 

'' Nor circumscrib'd in dignitie alone, 

" Do I my rich superior's vassal ride ; 
*' Sad penurie, as was in cottage known, 

" With all its frowns, does o'er my roof preside. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 47 

All ! not for me the harvest yields its store, 

" The bough-crown'd shock in vain attracts mine eye ; 

To labour doom'd, and destin'd to be poor, 

'' I pass the field, I hope not envious, by. 

When at the altar, surplice-clad, I stand, 

" The bridegroom's joy draws forth the golden fee ; 

The gift I take, but dare not close my hand ; 

'' The splendid present centres not in me."^ 

PENROSE. 



GN A SHADOW. 

HOW are deluded human kind 

By empty shows betray'd ! 
In all their hopes and schemes they find 

A nothing, or a shade. 

The prospects of a truncheon cast 

A soldier on the wars ; 
Dismiss'd with shatter'd limbs at last. 

Brats, poverty, and scars. 

The fond philosophers for gain 

Yvlll leave unturn'd no stone ; 
But tho' they toil with endless pain, 

They never find their own. 

By the same rock the chemists drown, 

And find no friendly hold ; 
But melt their ready specie down, 

In hopes of fancy 'd gold. 

W^hat is the mad projector's care. 

In hopes elate and swelling ? 
He builds his castles in the air ; 

Yet wants a house to dwell in. 

At court the poor dependants fail. 

And damn their fruitless toil. 
When complimented thence to jail. 

And ruin'd with a smile. 

How too philosophers will souna 

So strange a truth display'd ? 
^' There's not a substance to be found ; 

" But eveiy v/here a shade." pitt. 



48 ^tASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

HUMAN FRAILTY. 

WEAK and irresolute is mail ; 

The purpose of to-day. 
Woven with pains into his plan, 
^ ^ To-morrow rends away. 

The bow well bent, and smart the spring ; 

Vice seems already slain ! 
But passion rudely snaps the string. 

And it revives again. 

Some foe to his upright intent 

Finds out his weaker part. 
Virtue engages his assent. 

But Pleasure wins his heart. 

'Tis here the folly of the wise. 

Thro' all his heart we view ; 
And while his tongue the charge denies. 

His conscience owns it true. 

Bound on a voyage of awful lengtli. 

And dangers little known, 
A stranger to superior strength, 

Man vainly trusts his own. 

But oars alone can ne'er prevail 

To reach the distant coast ; 
The breath of Heav'n must swell the sail. 

Or all the toil is lost. cowpek. 



THE DEBTOR. 

CHILDREN of affluence, hear a poor man's pray'r . 

O haste, and free me from this dungeon's gloom I 
Let not the hand of comfortless Despair 

Sink my gray hairs with sorrow to the tomb ! ; ) 

Unus'd Compassion's tribute to demand. 

With clamorous din wake Charity's dull ear, .1 

Wring the slow aid from Pity's loit'ring hand. 

Weave the feign'd tale, or drop the ready t«ar. 

Far different thoughts employ'd my early hours, 
To views of bliss, to scenes of affluence born ; 

The hand of Pleasure strew'd my path with flow'rs| "," 
And ev'ry blessing hail'd my youthful morn. -^^"^^ 



CLASSICAL - E JTGLISH POETRY. ^1^ 

But, ah I how quick the change : the morning gleam, 
That cheer'd my fancy with her magic ray. 

Fled Hke the gairish pageant of a dream, 3'?^ 
And sorrow clos'd the evening of my day|' 

Such is the lot of human bliss below ! ■®'' 

Fond Hope awhile the trembling flow'ret rears ; 

Till unforeseen descends the blight of Woe, ,;; 
And withers in an hour the pride of year¥ 

In. evil hour, to specious wiles a prey, ^^-^ 

I trusted ; (who from fault is ever free?) - 

And the short progress of one fatal day. 

Was all the space 'twixt wealth and poverty. 

Where could I seek for comfort, or for aid ? 

To whom the ruins of my state commend? 
Left to myself, ahandon'd, and betray'd, 

Too late I found, the wretched have no friend ! 

E'en he, amid the rest, the favour'd youth. 

Whose vows had met the tenderest warm return. 

Forgot his oaths of constancy and truth. 
And left my child in solitude to mourn. 

Pity in vain stretch'd forth her feeble hand 

To guard the sacred WTeath that Hymen wove ; 

While pale-ey'd Avarice, from his sordid stand. 
Scowl' d o'er the ruins of neglected love. 

Tho' deeply hurt, yet sway'd by decent pride 
She hush'd her sorrows with becoming art ; 

And faintly strove^ with sickly smiles to hide 
The canker-worm that prey'd upon her heart. 

Nor blam'd his cruelty, nor wish'd to hate , .^.^^^.^ **»-.> 
W^hom once she lov'd, but pitied, and forgave* '-""^ - 

Then, unrepining, yielded to her fate, ' , 

And sunk in silent anguish to the grave. 

Children of afiRuence, hear a poor man's pray'r ! 

O haste and free me from tliis dungeon's gloom ! ;' 
Let not the hand of comfortless Despair 

Sink my gray hairs with sorrow to the tomb. 

- Monu. 



THE Patriot and warrior. 
LET laurels, drench'd in pure Parnassian dews. 
Reward hi* ^Rjea^ry dear to every muse, 

D 



50 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRV. 

Wlio, with a courage of unshaken root. 

In honour's field advancing his firm foot. 

Plants it upon the line that justice draws, 

And will prevail or perish in her cause ! 

'Tis to the virtues of such men man owes 

His portion in the good that heav'n bestows : 

And when recording history displays 

Feats of renown, tho' wrought in ancient days ; 

Tells of a few stout hearts that fought and died. 

Where duty plac'd them at their country's side ; 

The man who is not mov'd with what he reads. 

That takes not fire at their heroic deeds, 

Un-worthy of the blessings of the brave. 

Is base in kind, and born to be a slave ! 

But let eternal infamy pursue 

The wretch to nought but his ambition true ; 

Who, for the sake of filling with one blast 

The post-horns of all Europe, lays her waste ! 

Think yourself station'd on a tow'ring rock, 

To see a people scatter'd like a flock ; 

Some bloody mastiff panting at their heels. 

With all the savage thirst a tiger feels ; 

Then view him self-proclaim'd in a Gazette, 

Chief monster that has plagu'd the nations yet ! 

The globe and sceptre in such hands misplac'd. 

Those ensigns of dominion how disgrac'd ! 

The glass that bids man mark the fleeting hour. 

And death's own scythe would better speak his power ; 

Then grace the bony phantom in their stead, 

Witli the gay shoulder-knot and gay cockade ; 

Clothe the twin-brethren in each other's dress. 

The same — their occupation and success ! cow per. 



THE BEE-FLOWER. 

COME, let us leave this painted plain. 
This waste of flowers that palls the eye ; 

The walks of Nature's wilder reign 
Shall please in plainer majesty. 

Thro' those fair scenes, where yet she owes 
Superior charms to Brockman's art ; 

Where, crown'd with elegant repose. 
He cherishes the social heart. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 51 

Thro' those fair scenes we'll wander wild, 
And on yon pasture-mountains rest ; 

Come, brother dear ! come. Nature's child ! 
With all her simple virtues blest. 

The sun, far seen on distant towers. 

And clouding groves, and peopled seas ; 

And ruins pale of princely bowers. 

On Beachborough's airy heights shall please. 

Nor lifeless there the lonely scene ; 

The little labourer of the hive. 
From flower to flower, from green to green, 

Murmurs, and makes the wild alive. 

See, on that flow'ret's velvet breast. 

How close the busy vagrant lies ! 
His thin- wrought plume, his downy breast, 

Th' ambrosial gold that swells his thighs. 

Regardless, whilst we wander near. 

Thrifty of time, his task he plies ; 
Or sees he no intruder near. 

And rests in sleep his weary eyes. 

Perhaps his fragrant load may bind 
His limbs ; — we'll set the captive free. 

I sought the living Bee to find. 
And found the picture of a Bee. 

Attentive to our trifling selves. 

From thence we plan the rule of all ; 

Thus Nature with the fabled elves 

We rank, and these her sports we call. 

Be far, my friends, from you, from me, 
Th',unhallow'd term, the thought profane, 

That Life's majestic source may be 
In idle Fancy's trifling vein. 

Remember still, 'tis Nature's plan. 

Religion in your love to find ; 
And know, for this, she firct in man 

Inspir'd the imitative mind. 

As conscious that affection grows, 

Pleas'd with the pencil's mimic power ; 

That power with leading hand she shows. 
And painty a Bee upon a flower. 

D2 



55 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Mark, how that rooted mandrake wears 
His human feet, his human hands ! 

Oft, as his shapely form he rears. 
Aghast the frighted plowman stands. 

See where, in yonder orient stone. 
She seems e'en with herself at strife ; 

While fairer from her hand is shown 
The pictur'd, than the native life. 

Helvetia's rocks, Sabrina's waves. 

Still many a shining pebble bear ; 
Where oft her studious nand engraves 

The perfect form, and leaves it there. 

LANG HORNS. 



X 



THE ATHEIST AND THE ACORN. 

METHINKS the world seems oddly made. 

And every thing amiss ; 
A dull complaining Atheist said. 
As stretch'd he lay beneath the shade. 

And instanced in this ; 

" Behold," quoth he, " that mighty thing, 

" A Pumpkin, large andround, 
" Is held but by a little string, 
" Which upv/ards cannot make it spring, 
" Nor bear it from the ground. 

" While on this oak an Acorn small, 

" So disproportion'd grows, 
" That whosoe'er surveys this all, 
" This universal casual ball, 

" Its ill-contrivance knows. 

'' My better judgment would have hung 

*' The Putnpkin on the tree, 
" And left the Acorn slightly strung, 
" 'Mong things that on the surface sprung, 

" And weak and feeble be." 

No more the caviller could say. 

No further faults descry ; 
For upwards gazing as he lay. 
An Acorn loosen'd from its spray, ^i ji?A t 

Fell down upon his eye. noM lis i 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 55 

The wounded part with tears rah o'er ; 

As punish'd for the sin : 
Fool ! had that bough a Pumpkin bore. 
Thy whimsies would have work'd no more^ 

Nor scull have kept them in. w^tts. 



THE MORALIST. 

HARK ! the hollow-moaning Wind 

Sweeps along the midnight air. 
Sullen as the guilty mind ; 

Hidden source of dark Despair. 

See the death- wing*d Lightning fly ! 

Desolation marks its way ; . . ^ - 
Fatal as the vengeful eye, .J 

Fixing on its destin'd prey. -_:. 

Dreadful Thunders threatening roU, "• 

Viewless, 'midst the turbid clouds ! 

So the fierce relentless soul 

Hate's empoison'd aiTows shrouds. 

See the biUowy Ocean's breast, 

Sway'd by ev'ry wav'ring wind ; 
Rises, foams, and sinks to rest. 

Fickle as the human mind ! 

Sweetly blooms the Rose of May, 
Glitt'ring with the tears of Mom ; 

So insidious smiles betray. 

While they hide the treach'rous thorn. 

Mark gay Summer's glowing prime, 
Shadow'd by the twilight gloom ; 

So the ruthless wing of Time 
Bends the fairest to the tomb. 

Moralist ! where'er you move 

O'er vast Nature's varying plan ; 
Ev'ry changing scene shall prove 

A SAD epitome of man I ROBINSON, 



theron; or, the praise of rural life. 

FAIR Spring o'er Nature held her gentlest sway. 
Fair Mom diffus'd around her brightest ray ; 

D3 



54f CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Thin mists hung hovering on the distant trees. 

Or roll'd from off the fields before tlie breeze. 

The shepherd Theron watch'd his fleecy train. 

Beneath a broad oak, on the grassy plain : 

A heath's green wild lay pleasant to his view. 

With shrubs and field-flowers deck'd of varied hue ; 

There hawthorns tall their silver bloom disclos'd. 

Here flexile broom's bright yellow interpos'd ; 

Tliere purple orchis, here pale daisies spread. 

And sweet May lilies richest odours shed. 

From many a copse and blossom'd orchard near. 

The voice of birds melodious charm'd the eai* ; 

There shrill the lark, and soft the linnet sung. 

And loud through air the throstle's music rung. 

The gentle swain the cheerful scene admir'd ; 

The cheerful scene the song of joy inspir'd. 

" Chant on !" he cried, " ye warblers on the spray ! 

" Bleat on, ye flocks, that in the pastures play I 

" Low on, ye herds, that range the dewy vales ! 

" Murmur, ye rills, and whisper soft ye gales ! 

" How blest my lot, in these sweet fields assign'd, 

" Where peace and leisure soothe the tuneful mind ; 

" Where yet some pleasing vestiges remain 

'' Of unperverted Nature's golden reign, 

" When Love and Virtue rang'd Arcadian shades, 

" With undesigning youths and artless maids ! 

" For us, tho' destin'd to a later time, 

" A less luxuriant soil, less genial clime ; 

" For as the country boasts enough to charm, 

" In the wild woodland or the cultur'd farm. 

" Come, Cynthia, come ! in town no longer stay ; 

" From crowds, and noise, and folly, haste away ! 

" The fields, the meads, the trees, are all in bloom, 

" The vernal showers awake a rife perfume, 

'' Where Damon's mansion, by the glassy stream, 

" Reai-s its white walls that thro' gi-een willows gleam, 

" Annual the neighbours hold their shearing-day, 

" And blithe youths come, and nymphs in neat array ; 

*? Those shear the sheep, upon the smooth turf laid, 

" In the broad plane's, or trembling poplar's shade : 

" These for their friends th' unexpected feast provide, 

" Beneath cool bowers along th' enclosure's side. 

'^ To view the toil, the glad repast to share, 

" Thy Delia, my Melaiiia, shall be there ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 55 

" Eachj kind and faithful to her faithful swain, 

" Loves the calm pleasure of the pastoral plain. 

" Come, Cynthia, corae ! If towns and crowds invite, 

" And noise and folly promise high delight, 

" Soon the tir'd soul disgusted turns from these— 

" The rural prospect, only, long can please." scott. 



INSCRIPTION IN A HERMITAGE. 

BENEATH this stony roof rechn'd, 
I soothe to peace my pensive mind : 
And while, to shade my lowly cave^ 
Embow'ring elms their umbrage wave ; 
And while the maple dish is mine. 
The beechen cup unstain'd with wine ; 
T scorn the gay licentious crowd. 
Nor heed the toys that deck the proud. 

Within my limits lone and still. 
The blackbird pipes in artless trill ; 
Fast by my couch, "congenial guest. 
The wren has wove her mossy nest ; 
From busy scenes, and brighter skies, 
To lurk with Innocence, she flies ; 
Here hopes in safe repose to dwell. 
Nor aught suspects the sylvan cell. 

At mom I take my customed round. 
To mark how buds yon shrubby mound : 
And every opening primrose count. 
That trimly paints my blooming mount ; 
Or o'er the sculptures, quaint and rude. 
That grace my gloomy solitude, 
I teach, in winding wreaths, to stray 
Fantastic ivy's gadding spray. 

At eve, within yon studious nook, 

I ope my brass-embossed book, 

Pourtray'd with many a holy deed 

Of martyrs, crown'd with heavenly meed ; 

Then, if my taper waxes dim. 

Chant, ere I sleep, my measur'd hymn : 

And, at the close, the gleams behold 

Of parting wings bedropt with gold. 

D4 



^6 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, 

While such pure joys my bliss create. 

Who but would smile at guilty state ? 

Who but would wish his holy lot 

In calm Oblivion's humble grot ? 

Who but would cast his pomp away, 

To lal^e my staff, and amice gray ; 

And to the world's tumultuous stage 

Prefer the blameless hermitage ? warton. 



REMEMBR.ANCES. 

ALAS ! the hospitable hall, 

Where youth and friendship play'd. 
Wide to the winds a ruin'd wall. 

Projects a death-like shade 1 ^ 

The charm is vanish'd from the vales. 
No voice with virgin- whisper hails 

A stranger to his native bow'rs ; 
No more Arcadian mouiitains bloom. 
Nor Enna valleys breathe perfume. 

The fancied Eden fades with all its flowers I 

Companions of the youthful scene, 

Endear'd from earliest days ! 
With whom I sported on the green. 

Or rov'd the woodland maze ! 
Long exil'd from your native clime, 
Or by the thunderstroke of Time, 

Snatch'd to the shadows of despair; 
I hear your voices in the wind. 
Your forms in every walk I find, 

I stretch my arms : ye vanish into air f 

My steps, when innocent and young. 

These fairy paths pursu'd ; 
And, wand'ring o'er the wild, I sung 

My fancies to the wood. , '^ 

I mourn'd the linnet-lover's fate, J 

Or turtle, from her murder'd mate, 

Condemn'd the widow'd hours to wail : 
Or while the mournful vision rose, 
I sought to weep for imag'd woes. 
Nor real life believ'd a tragic tale ! LoGA^ . 



CLASSiCAL ENGLISH POETRY. $7 

~ THE PLEASANT EVENING. 

DELIGHTFUL looks this clear, calm sky. 

With Cynthia's orb on high ! 

Delightful looks this smooth-grain ground. 

With shadows cast from cots around ; 

! Quick-twinkling lustre decks the tide ; 

And cheerful radiance gently falls 

On that white town, and castle walls. 

That crown the spacious river's further side. 

And now, along the echoing hills. 
The night-bird's strain melodious trills ; 
And now, the echoing dale along. 
Soft flows the shepherd's tuneful song ; 

And now, wide o'er the water borne. 
And cities, mingled murmur swells. 
And lively change of distant bells. 

And varied warbling of the deep-ton'd horn. 

Their influence calms the soften'd soul. 
And passions feel their strong controul ; 
While Fancy's eye, where'er it strays, 
A scene of happiness surveys ; 

Through all the various walks of life 
No natural ill or moral sees. 
No famine fell, nor dire disease. 

Nor War's infernal unrelentuig strife. 

For these, behold a heavenly band. 
Their white wings waving o'er the land ! 
Sweet Innocence, a cherub fair. 
And Peace, and Joy, a sister-pair ; 

And Kindness mild, their kindred grace. 
Whose brow serene complacence wears. 
Whose hand her liberal bounty bears 

O'er the vast range of animated space ! 

Blest vision ! O for ever stay ! 

O far be Guilt and Pain away \ 

And yet, perhaps, with Him, whose view 

Looks at one glance creation through. 

To general good our partial ill 
Seems but a sand upon the plain. 
Seems but a drop amid the main. 

And some wise unknown purpose may fulfil. 

SCOTT 

D5 



5l5 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, 



THE TEMPESTUOUS EVENING. 

THERE'S grandeur in the sounding storm. 
That drives the hurrying clouds along. 
That on each other seem to throng. 
And mix in many a varied form ; 
While, bursting now and then between. 
The moon's dim misty orb is seen. 
And casts faint glimpses on the green. 

Beneath the blast the forests bend. 
And thick the branchy ruin lies. 
And wide the shower of foliage flies ; 
The lake's black waves in tumult blend ; 
Revolving o'er, and o'er, and o'er. 
And foaming on the rocky shore. 
Whose caverns echo to their roar. 

The sight sublime enrapts my thought. 
And swift along the past it strays. 
And much of strange event surveys, 
What History's faithful tongue has taught ; 
Or Fancy form'd, whose plastic skill 
The page with fabled change can fill. 
Of ill to good, or good to ill. 

But can my soul the scene enjoy. 

That rends another's breast with pain ? 

O hapless he, who, near the main. 

Now sees its billowy rage destroy ! 

Beholds the foundering bark descend. 

Nor knows but what its fate may end 

The moments of his dearest friend. scott. 



MAN MADE TO MOURN. 

A FEW seem favourites of state. 

In pleasure's lap carest. 
Yet think not all the rich and great. 

Are likewise truly blest ; 
But oh ! what crowds in ev'ry land 

Are wretched and forlorn ; 
Thro' weary life this lesson learn. 

That man was made to mourn I 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 59 

Many and sharp the num'rous ills 

Inwoven with our frame ; 
More pointed still we make ourselves 

Regret — remorse and shame. 
And Man, whose heav'n-erected face 

The smiles of love adorn : 
Man's inhumanity to man. 

Makes countless thousands mourn ! 

See yonder poor o'er-labour'd wight. 

So abject, mean, and vile. 
Who begs a brother of the earth 

To give him leave to toil ; 
And see his lordly fellow- worm 

The poor petition spurn. 
Unmindful, tho' a weeping wife 

And helpless offspring mourn ! 

If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave 

By nature's law design'd. 
Why was an independent wish 

E'er planted in my mind } 
If not — why am I subject to 

His cruelty or scorn ? 
Or why has man the will or pow'r 

To make his fellow mourn ? 

Yet let not this too much, my son. 

Disturb thy youthful breast ; 
This partial view of human kind 

Is surely not the last : 
The poor oppressed honest man 

Had never sure been born. 
Had there not been some recompence 

To comfort those that mourn ! 

O Death ! the poor man's dearest friend. 

The kindest and the best : 
Welcome the hour my aged limbs 

Are laid with thee at rest ! 
The great and wealthy fear thy blow. 

From pomp and pleasure torn ; 
But oh ! a blest relief to those 

That weary-laden mouni ! burns, 

D6 



J60 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



THE MESSIAH. 

YE Nymphs of Soljmia ! begin the song, 
To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. 
The mossy fountains, and the sylvan shades. 
The dreams of Pindus, and th' Aonian maids. 
Delight no more. — O Thou my voice inspire, 
Who touch'd Isaiah's hallow'd lips with fire ! 

Rapt into future times the Bard begun : 
A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a son ! 
From Jesse's root behold a branch arise. 
Whose sacred flow'r with fragrance fills the skies ; 
Th' ethereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move. 
And on its top descends the mystic dove. 
Ye heavens ! from high the dewy nectar pour. 
And in soft silence shed the kindly siiow'r I 
The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid. 
From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade. 
Ail crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, 
Returning Justice lift aloft her scale ; 
Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend. 
And white-rob'd Innocence from heaven descend. 
Swift fly the years, and rise th' expected morn ! 
Oh, spring to light, auspicious Babe ! be born. 
See Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring. 
With all the incense of the breathing spring : 
See lofty Lebanon his head advance. 
See nodding forests on the mountains dance : 
See spicy clouds from lowly Sharon rise. 
And Carmel's flow'ry top perfumes the skies ! 

Hark ! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers ; 
Prepare the way ! a God, a God appears ! 
A God, a God ! the vocal hills reply. 
The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity. 
Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies ! 
Sink down, ye mountains ! and ye valleys rise ! 
With heads declin'd, ye cedars, homage pay ; 
Be smooth, ye rocks ! ye rapid floods, give way ! 
The Saviour comes ! by ancient Bards foretold : 
Hear him, ye deaf I and all ye blind, behold ! 
He from thick films shall purge t^lie visual ray. 
And on the sightless ey^-ball pour the day : ' 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 61 

'Tis he th* obstructed paths of sound shall clear. 

And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear : 

The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego. 

And leap exulting like the bounding roe. 

No sigh, no murmui', the wide world shall hear. 

From ev'ry face he wipes off ev'ry tear. 

In adamantine chains shall Death be bound. 

And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound. 

As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care. 

Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air. 

Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs. 

By day o'ersees them, and by night protects ; 

The tender lambs he raises in his arms. 

Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms ; 

Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, 

The promis'd father of the future age. 

No more shall nation against nation rise. 

Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes : 

Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er. 

The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more ; 

But useless lances into scythes shall bend. 

And the broad faulchion in a ploughshare end : 

Then palaces shall rise ; the joyful son 

Shall finish what his short-liv'd sire begun ; 

Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield, 

And the same hand that sow'd,^shall reap the field. 

The swain in barren deserts, with surprise. 

Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise ; - 

And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear 

New falls of water murm'ring in his ear. 

On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes, i *^' 

The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nod#;'* ^-^^ 

Waste sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn. 

The spiry fir and stately box adorn ; 

To leafless shrubs the flow'ring palms succeed. 

And od'rous myrtle to the noisome weed ; 

The lambs with wolves shall grace the verdant mead, 

And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead. 

The steer and Hon at one crib shall meet. 

And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet. 

The smiling infant in his hand shall take 

The crested basilisk, and speckled snake ; 

Pleas'd, the green lustre of their scales survey, 

And with their forky tongues shall innocently play. 



02 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise f 

Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes ; 

See a long race thy spacious courts adorn ; 

See future sons, and daughters, yet unborn. 

In crowding ranks on ev'ry side arise. 

Demanding life, impatient for the skies ! 

See barbrous nations at thy gate attend. 

Walk in thy light, and in thy temples bend ; 

See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, 

And heap'd with products of Sabaean springs ! 

For thee Idume's spicy forests blow. 

And seeds of gold in Ophir's momitains glow. 

See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display. 

And break upon thee in a flood of day. 

No more the rising sun shall gild the morn. 

Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her silver horn ; 

But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays. 

One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze, 

O'erflow thy courts : the Light himself shall shine 

Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine ! 

The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay. 

Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away : 

But fix'd his word, his saving power remains ; 

Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns ! 

POPE. 



THE NEGRO S COMPLAINT. 

FORC'D from home and all its pleasures, 

Afric's coast I left forlorn ; 
To increase a stranger's treasures. 

O'er the raging billows borne. 
Men from England bought and sold me. 

Paid my price in paltry gold ; 
But, though their's they have enroU'd me. 

Minds are never to be sold. 

Still in thought as free as ever, 

What are England's rights, I ask. 
Me from my delights to sever. 

Me to torture, me to task ? 
Fleecy locks and black complexion 

Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; 
Skins may differ, but affection 

Dwells in white and black- the same. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 63 

Why did all-creating Nature, 

Make the plant for which we toil ? 
Sighs must fan it, tears must water. 

Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
Think, ye masters, iron-hearted. 

Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
Think how many backs have smarted 

For the sweets your cane affords. 

Is there, as ye sometimes tell us. 

Is there One, who reigns on high ? 
Has he bid you buy and sell us, 

Speaking from his throne, the sky ? 
Ask him, if your knotted scourges. 

Matches, blood-^extorting screws. 
Are the means which duty urges, 

Agents of his will to use ? 

Hark ! he answers — Wild tornadoes. 

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; 
Wasting towns, plantations, meadows. 

Are Qie voice with which he speaks. 
He, foreseeing what vexations 

Afric's sons should undergo, 
Fix'd their tyrants' habitations 

Where his whirlwinds answer — No. 

By our blood in Afric wasted. 

Ere our necks receiv'd the chain ; 
By the miseries we have tasted. 

Crossing in your barks the main : 
By our sufferings, since ye brought us 

To the man-degrading mart ; 
All sustained by patience, taught us 

Only by a broken heart ! 

Deem our nation brutes no longf^r. 

Till some reason ye shall find. 
Worthier of regard, and stronger. 

Than the colour of our kind. 
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings 

Tarnish all your boasted powers. 
Prove that you have human feelings, 
. Ere you proudly question ours ! covv'Pek. 



6# CLM^tJitL ENGLISH POETRY. 



SOCIAL AFFECTIONS INDELIBLE. 

ASK the pale mother, why 'tis joy to weep, 
When o'er her stricken babe faint slumbers creep ? 
Ask why the child at midnight's thickest gloom 
Still fondly lingers at a parent's tomb ? 
Or why the wife, in times of raging death, 
Yet leans to catch her Lord's polluted breath ? 
Go, warn them straight of pestilential air. 
Point to the weakness here, the danger there; 
Let mirth and music all their powers employ, 
To spread for every sense its fav'rite joy; 
Then,arm'd with all the world's seductions, try 
To wean the mourners from so dark a sky ; 
Oh ! they will spurn the profer'd gales of health. 
The lures of pleasure and the snares of wealth, 
Prefer the dark recesses of disease. 
The sickly pillow, and the tainted breeze. 
And call it conscience, nature, bliss, to know 
The last extremities of social woe. 

Hence the great principle to all expands. 
Thaws Lapland's ice, and glows in India's sands ; 
Above, below, its genial splendours play. 
Where'er a human footstep marks the way. 
'« Oh ! for one track of man upon the snow, 
" The trace of sweet society to shew ! 
" Oh ! for one print on swarthy Afric's sho-re !" 
Thus prays the wanderer, 'scap'd from ocean's roar : 
In every clime is felt the throb divine. 
By land, by water, here, and at the line. 

PRATT. 



EDWIN AND ANGELINA. 

" TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, 
" And guide my lonely way, 

•* To where yon taper cheers the vale 
" With hospitable ray. 

" For here forlorn and lost I tread, 
" With fainting steps and slow ; 

** Where wilds immeasurably spread 
" Seem lengthening as I go.' 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 65 ^ 

*' Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, 

" To tempt the dangerous gloom ; 
*' For yonder phantom only flies 

" To lure thee to thy doom. 

" Here, to the houseless chQd of want 

" My door is open still : 
" And though my portion is but scant, 

" I give it with good will. 

" Then turn to-night, and freely share 

" Whate'er my cell bestows ; 
" My rushy couch and frugal fare, 

" My blessing and repose. 

" No flocks, that range the valley free, 

" To slaughter I condemn ; 
*' Taught by that power that pities me, 

" I learn to pity them. 

" But from the mountain's grassy side 

" A guiltless feast I bring ; 
" A scrip, with herbs and fruits supply'd, 

" And water from the spring. 

" Then, Pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; 

" All earth-bornr cares are wrong : 
" Man wants but little here below. 

Nor wants that little long." 

Soft as the dew from Heav n descends. 

His gentle accents fell ; 
The modest stranger lowly bends. 

And follows to the cell. 

Far m a wilderness obscure. 

The lonely mansion lay ; 
A refuge to the neighbouring poor, 

And strangers led astray. 

No stores beneath its humble thatch 

Requir'd a master's care ; 
The wicket, opening with a latch, 

Receiv'd the harmless pair. 

And now, when busy crowds retire. 

To take their evening rest. 
The Hermit trimm'd his little fire. 

And cheer'd his pensive guest ; 



66 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

And spread his vegetable store. 

And gaily press'd and smil'd ; 
And, skill'd in legendary lore. 

The lingering hours beguil'd. 

Around, in sympathetic mirth. 

Its tricks the kitten tries ; 
The cricket chirrups in the hearth. 

The crackling faggot flies. 

But nothing could a charm impart. 

To soothe the stranger's woe ; 
For grief was heavy at his heart, 

And tears began to flow. 

His rising cares the Hermit spy'd, 

With answering care opprest : 
'^ And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd, 

'* The sorrows of thy breast ? 

" From better habitations spurn'd, 

" Reluctant dost thou rove ? 
" Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, 

" Or unregarded love ? 

" Alas ! the joys that fortune brings 

" Are trifling and decay ; 
'*' And those who prize the paltry things ; 

" More trifling still than they. 

" And what is friendship but a name 
" A charm that lulls to sleep ! 

" A shade that follows wealth or fame, 
" And leaves the wretch to weep ! 

" And love is still an emptier sound, 

*' The modem fair-one's jest ; 
" On earth unseen, or only found 

" To warm the turtle's nest. 

" For shame, fond youth, thy sorrow's hush, 
" And spurn the sex," he said : 

But while he spoke, a rising blush 
His love-lorn guest betray'd. 

Surpris'd, he sees new beauties rise. 

Swift mantling to the view. 
Like colours o'er the morning skies. 

As bright, as transient too. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 5? 

The bashful look, the rising breast. 

Alternate spread alarms ; 
The lovely stranger stands confest 

A maid in all her charms. 

*' And ah ! forgive a stranger rude, 

" A wretch forlorn," she cry'd, 
" Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude, 

" Where heaven and you reside, 

" But let a maid thy pity share, 

" Whom love has taught to stray ; 
" Who seeks for rest, but finds despair 

" Companion of her way. 

" My father liv'd beside the Tyne, 

" A wealthy lord was he ; 
" And all his wealth was mark'd as mine ; 

" He had but only me. 

" To win me from his tender arms, 

" Unnumber'd suitors came ; 
'' Who prais'd me for imputed charms, 

" And felt, or feign'd, a flame. 

" Each hour a mercenaiy crowd 

** With richest proffers strove ; 
** Amongst the rest young Edwin bov/*d, 

" But never talked of love. 

" In humblest, simplest, habit clad, 

" No wealth nor power had he ; 
*' Wisdom and worth were all he had ; 

" But these were all to me. 

" The blossom opening to the day, 

" The dews of Heaven refin'd, 
" Could nought of purity display, 

'^ To emulate his mind. 

*f The dew, the blossoms of the tree, 

" With charms inconstant shine ; 
*' Their charms were his ; but, woe to me, 

" Their constancy was mine. 

*' For still I try'd each fickle art, 

" Importunate and vain ; 
" And while his passion touched my heart, 

" I triumph'd in his pain. 



68 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

" Till quite dejected with my sewn, 

" He left me to my pride ; 
" And sought a solitude forlorn, 

" In secret, where he died ! 

"But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, 

" And well my life shall pay : 
" rU seek the solitude he sought, 

" And stretch me where he lay. 

*• And there, forlorn, despairing, hid, 

" I'll lay me down and die : 
" 'Twas so for me that Edwin did, 
_ _„ " And so for him will I." 

" Forbid it. Heaven !" the Hermit cry'd. 

And clasp'd her to his breast : 
The wondering fair-one turn'd to chide ', 

'Twas Edwin's self that prest ! 

" Turn, Angelina, ever dear, 

" My charmer, turn to see, 
"Thy own, thy long-lost, Edwin here, 

" Restor'd to love and thee. 

" Thus let me hold thee to my heart, 

" And ev'ry care resign ; 
" And shall we never, never part, 

" My Hfe — ^my all that's mine ? 

" No, never from this hour to part, 

" We'll live and love so true ; 
" The sigh that rends thy constant heart, 

'f ShaU break thy Edwin's too." ^ goldsmith. 



MENTAL IMPROVEMENT. 

The time was once 

When Love and Happiness went hand in hand ; 
In that blest era of the infant world. 
Ere man had learnt to bow the knee to man. 
Was there a youth whom warm affection fill'd. 
He spake his honest heart : the earliest fruits 
His toil produc'd : the sweetest flowers that deck'd 
The sunny bank, he gather'd for the maid ; 
Nor she disdain'd the gift jv for Vice not yet 
Had burst the dungeons of her hell, and rear'd 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 69 

Those artificial bounds that divide 

Man from his species — State of blessedness ! 

Till that ill-omen'd hour when Cain's stem son 

Delv'd into the bowels of the earth for gold — - 

Accursed bane of virtue ! of such force 

As poets feign dwelt in the gorgon locks. 

Which, whoso saw, felt instant the life-blood 

Cold curdle in his veins : the creeping flesh 

Grew stiff with horror, and the heart forgot 

To beat. Accursed hour ! for man no more 

To Justice paid his homage, but forsook 

Her altars, and bow'd down before the shrine 

Of Wealth and Power, the idols he had made! 

Then Hell enlarg'd herself — her gates flew wide— 

Her legion fiends rush'd forth ! Oppression came, 

Whose frown is desolation, and whose breath 

Blasts like a pestilence : and Poverty, 

A meagre monster^ who, with with'ring touch 

Makes barren all the better part of man — 

Mother of Miseries ! — then the goodly Earth 

Which God had fram'd for happier purposes, became 

One theatre of woe ; and all that God 

Had given to bless freemen, these tyrant fiends 

His bitterest curses made ! Yet for the best 

Hath he ordain'd all things — the All- Wise ! 

For by experience rous'd shall Man at length 

Dash down his Moloch-gods Samson-like, 

And burst his fetters — only strong whilst strong 

Believ'd — then in the bottomless abyss 

Oppression shall be chain'd and Poverty 

Die, and with her — her brood of miseries ; 

And Virtue and Equality preserve 

The reign of Love, and Earth shall once again 

Be Paradise, whilst Wisdom shall secure 

The state of bUss which Ignorance betrayed ! 

SOUTHEY. 



ODE TO WISDOM. 

THE solitary bird of rnght 

Thro' the pale shades now wings his flight. 

And quits the time- shook tow'r ; 
Where, shelter'd from the blaze of day, 
In philosophic gloom he lay. 

Beneath his ivy bow'r. 



70 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

With joy I hear the solemn sound. 
Which midnight echoes waft around. 

And sighing gales repeat : 
Fav'rite of Pallas ! I attend. 
And, faithful to thy summons, bend 

At Wisdom's awful seat. 

She loves the cool, the silent eve. 
Where no false shows of life deceive. 

Beneath the lunar ray : 
Here Folly drops each vain disguise, 
Nor sports her gaily-colour'd dyes. 

As in the glare of day. 

O Pallas ! queen of ev'ry art 

" That glads the sense, or mends the heart,** 

Blest source of purer joys ; 
In ev'ry form of beauty bright. 
That captivates the mental sight 

With pleasure and surprise : 

To thy unspotted shrine I bow ; 
Assist thy modest suppliant's vow. 

That breathes no wild desires ; 
But, taught by thy unerring rules. 
To shun the fruitless wish of fools. 

To nobler views aspires. 

Nor Fortune's gem. Ambition's plume, 
Not Cytherea's fading bloom. 

Be objects of my pray'r : 
Let Av'rice, Vanity, and Pride, 
Those glitt'ring, envied toys, divide ; 

The dull rewards of care. 

To me thy better gifts impart. 
Each moral beauty of the heart. 

By studious thought refin'd ; 
For wealth, the smiles of glad content ; 
For pow'r, its amplest, best extent. 

An empire o'er my mind. 

Wben Fortune drops her gay parade. 
When Pleasure's transient roses fade, 

And wither in the tomb ; 
Unchang'd is thy immortal prize. 
Thy ever- verdant laurels rise 

In undecaying bloom. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 71 

By thee protected, I defy 

The coxcomb's sneer, the stupid lie. 

Of ignorance and spite ; 
Alike contemn the leaden fool. 
And all the pointed ridicule 

Of un discerning wit. 

From envy, hurry, noise, and strife, 
The dull impertinence of life. 

In thy retreat I rest ; 
Pursue thee to the peaceful groves. 
Where Plato's sacred spirit roves. 

In all thy graces drest. 

He bids Ilissus' tuneful stream 
Convey the philosophic theme 

Of perfect, fair, and good ; 
Attentive Athens caught the souxd. 
And all her list'ning sons around 

In awful silence stood. 

Reclaim'd, her wild licentious youth 
Confess'd the potent voice of truth. 

And felt its just control : 
The passions ceas'd their loud alarms. 
And virtue's soft persuasive charms 

O'er all their senses stole. 

Thy breath inspires the poet's song. 
The patriot's free unbiass'd tongue. 

The hero's generous strife : 
Thine are retirement's silent joys. 
And all the sweet endearing ties 

Of still domestic life. 

No more to fabl'd names confin'd, 

To Thee, Supreme All-perfect Mind, 

My thoughts direct their flight : 
Wisdom's thy gift, and all her force 
From thee deriv'd. Unchanging Source 

Of intellectual light ! 

O send her sure, her steady ray. 
To regulate my doubtful way. 

Through life's perplexing road ; 
The mists of error to control. 
And through its gloom direct ray soul 

To happiness and good ! 



*^ ^hikS^Ah^imGLiSH POETRY. 

Beneath her clear discerning eye 

The visionary shadows fly u,. 

^ Of folly's painted show; ^ ^^^, THOIHa 

She sees, thro ev ry iair disguise, rr..,,:; ^^./m 

That all, but virtue's 5olid joys. 

Is vanity and woe. carteu. 

ossian's hymn to the sun. 
O THOU whose beams the sea-girt earth array. 
King of the sky, and father of the day ! 
O Sun ! what fountain, hid from human eyes. 
Supplies thy circle round the radiant skies, 
For ever burning and for ever bright, 'I 

With Heaven's pure fire and everlasting light? 
WTiat awful beauty in thy face appears ! 
Immortal youth beyond the power of years I 

When gloomy darkness to thy reign resigns, -'^ 

And from the gates of Morn thy glory shines. 
The conscious stars are put to sudden flight, ■■{ 

And all the planets hide their heads in night ; 
The Queen of Heaven forsakes th' ethereal plain. 
To sink inglorious in the western main. 
The clouds refulgent deck thy golden throne. 
High in the Heavens, immortal and alone ! 
Who can abide the brightness of thy face. 
Or who attend thee in thy rapid race ? 
The mountain-oaks, like their own leaves, ded^^^^J'*!^■*' 
Themselves, the mountains, wear with age away ; ' 
The boundless main that rolls from land to land. 
Lessens at times and leaves a waste of sand ; 
The silver moon, refulgent lamp of night, -.H 

Is lost in Heaven, and emptied of her light ; ;W 

But thou for ever shalt endure the same, - 

Thy light eternal and unspent thy flame. 

When tempests with their train impend on high, 
Darken the day, and load the labouring sky ; 
When Heaven's wide convex glows with lightnings dire. 
All ether flaming, and all earth on fire ; 
When loud and long the deep-mouth'd thunder rolls. 
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles ; 
If from the opening clouds thy form appears. 
Her wonted charm the face of nature wears; H 

Thy beauteous orb restores departed day, T 

Looks from the sky and laughs the storm away* fc^cisfl 

/ LOGAN. 

id 



ODE TO THE GLOW-WORM. 

BRIGHT stranger, welcome to my field ; 
Here feed in safety, here thy radiance yield ; 

To me, oh, nightly be thy splendom* giv'n ! 
O, could a wish of mine the skies command. 
How would I gem thy leaf with lib'ral hand, 

With ev'ry sweetest dew of heav'n ! 

Say, dost thou kindly light the fairy train. 
Amid the gambols on the stilly plain. 

Hanging thy lamp upon the moisten'd blade ? 
What lamp so fit, so pure as thine. 
Amid the gentle elfen band to shine. 

And chase the horrors of the midnight shade ! 

Oh ! may no feathered foe disturb thy bow'r. 
And with barbarian beak thy life devour ! 

Oh ! may no ruthless torrent of the sky, 
Q'erwhelming, force thee from thy dewy seat ; 
Nor tempests tear thee from thy green retreat. 

And bid thee 'mid the humming myriads die ! 

Queen of the insect world, what leaves delight ! 

Of such these willing hands a bow'r shall form. 
To guard thee from the rushing rains of night. 

And hide thee from the wild wing of the storm. 

Sweet child of stillness ! 'mid the awful calm 
Of pausing Nature thou art pleas'd to dwell ; 

In happy silence to enjoy thy balm. 

And shed through life a lustre round thy cell. 

How diff'rent man, the imp of noise and strife. 
Who courts the storm that tears and darkens life ; 

Blest when the passions wild the soul invade ! 
How nobler far to bid those whirlwinds cease ; 
To taste, like thee, the luxury of peace. 

And, silent, shine in solitude and shade ! 



A BOTANY BAY ECLOGUE. 

WHY, stern Remembrance, must thine iron hand 
Harrow ray soul ? why calls thy cruel pow'r 
The fields of England to my exil'd eyes. 
The joys which once were mine ? E'en now I see 

E 



Y* CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The lowly lovely dwelling ! even now 

Behold the woodbine clasping its white walls. 

And hear the fearless redbreasts chirp around 

To ask their morning meal. — For I was wont. 

With friendly hand, to give their morning meal ; 

Was wont to love their song, when ling'ring mom 

Streak'd o'er the chilly landscape the dim light. 

And thro' the open lattice hung my head 

To view the snovz-drops bud ; and thence at eve. 

When mildly fading sunk the summer sun, 

Ofl have I lov'd to mark the rook's slow course. 

And hear his hollow croak, what time he sought 

The church-yard elm, whose wide-embow'ring boughs. 

Full fohag'd, half conceal'd the house of God. 

There, my dear Father, often have I heard 

Thy hallow'd voice explain the wond'rous works 

Of heav'n to sinful men. Ah, little deem'd 

Thy virtuous bosom, that thy shameless child 

So soon should spurn the lesson ! sink the slave 

Of vice and infamy ! the hireling prey 

Of brutal appetite ! At length worn out 

With famine, and th' avenging scourge of guilt. 

Should dare dishonesty— yet dread to die. south ey. 



EARLY IMPRESSIONS. 

DOWN by yon hazel copse, at ev'ning blaz'd 

The gipsy's fagot — there we stood and gaz'd ; 

Gaz'd on her sun-burnt face with silent awe. 

Her tatter'd men tie, and her hood of straw ; 

Her moving lips, her caldron brimming o'er ; 

The drowsy brood that on her back she bore ; 

Imps, in the barn with mousing owlet bred. 

From rifled roost at nightly revel fed ; 

Whose dark eyes flash'd through locks of blackest shade, 

When in the breeze the distant watch-dog bay'd : 

And heroes fled the sybil's mutter'd call. 

Whose elfen prowess scal'd the orchard-wall. 

And o'er my palm the silver piece she drew. 

And trac'd the line of life with searching view : 

How throbb'd my flutt'ring pulse with hopes and fears. 

To learn the colour of my future years ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 75 

Ah, then, what honest triumph fiush'd my breast 
This truth once known — To bless is to be blest. 
We led the bending buggar on his way ; 
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray) 
Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt. 
And on his tale with mute attention dwelt. 
As in his scrip we dropt our little store. 
And wept to think that little was no more. 
He breath'd his pray'r ; " Long may such goodness live \" 
'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give. 

But hark ! thro' those old firs, with sullen svrell 
The church-clock strikes ! ye tender scenes, farewell ! 
It calls me hence, beneath their shade to trace 
The few fond lines that time may soon efface. 

On yon gray stone, that fronts the chancel-door, 
"V^^orn smooth by busy feet now seen no more. 
Each eve we shot the marble through the ring, 
When the heart danc'd, and life was in its spring ; 
Alas ! unconscious of the kindred earth. 
That faintly echoed to the voice of mirth. Rogers. 



HAPPINESS. 

OH Happiness ! our beiiTg's end and aim : 

Good, pleasure, ease, content ! whatever thy name ; 

That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh. 

For which we dare to live, or dare to die ! 

Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, 

O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise ! 

Plant of celestial seed ! if dropt below. 

Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to gi-ow ? 

Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shrine. 

Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine ? 

Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield. 

Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field ? 

Where grows — where grows it not ? If vain our toil. 

We ought to blame the culture, not the soil. 

Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere, 

'Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where ; 

'Tis never to be bought, but always free. 

And fled from monai'chs, St. John, dvvells with thee. 

Ask of the leam'd the way : — the leam'd ar^ blind ; 
This bids to serve, and that to shun, mankind. 

E2 



76r CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Seme place the bliss in action, some in ease^'^^^^^'^^ ^^^^ 
Those call it pleasure, and contentment thesfe:"'" " "- 
Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain ; 
Some, swell'd to gods, confess ev'n virtue vain : 
Or indolent, to each extreme they fall. 
To trust in every thing, or doubt of all. 

Who thus define it, say they more or less *^ 

Than this, that happiness is happiness ? 

Take nature's path, and mad opinions leave, .>? 

All states can reach it, and all heads conceive ; fyj 

Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell ; :,qj^^ ^^ 
There need but thinking right, and meaning welli ^j;^f| 
And, mourn our various portions as we please, , ,., 

Equal are common sense and common ease. 

Remember, man, '^ The Universal Cause 
*' Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws ;" 
And makes what happiness we justly call. 
Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 
There's not a blessing individuals find. 
But some way leans and hearkens to the kind : 
No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride. 
No cavera'd hermit, rests self-satisfied. 
Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend. 
Seek an admirer, or v/ould fix a friend. 
Abstract what others feel, what others think. 
All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink : 
Each has his share ; and who would more obtain. 
Shall find the pleasure pays not half the pain. 

Order is Heaven's first law ; and this confest. 
Some are, and must be, greater than the rest ; 
More rich, more wise ; but who infers from hence 
That such are happier, shocks all common sense. 
Heaven to mankind impartial we confess. 
If all are equal in their happiness : 
But mutual wants this happiness increase. 
All nature's difference keeps all nature's peace. 
Condition, circumstance, is not the thing ; 
Bliss is the same in subject or in king ; 
In who obtain defence, or who defend ; 
In him who is, or him who finds, a friend : 
Heaven breathes through every member of the whole. 
One common blessing as one common souL 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY* ^7v 

But fortune's gifts, if each alike possest^' orf:? SPssfq BmoB 
And each were equal, must not all contest ? aaofiT 

If then, to all men happiness was meant, er-frv? 

God in externals could not place content. 

Fortune her gifts may variously dispose. 
And these be happy call'd, unhappy those ; 
But Heaven's just balance equal will appeal*. 
Whilst those are plac'd in hope, and these in fear ; 
Not present good or ill, the joy or curse, 
But future views of better or of worse. 
Oh sons of earth ! attempt ye still to rise. 
By mountain's pil'd on mountains, to the skies ? 
Heaven still with laughter the vain toil surveys. 
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. 
Know, all the good that individuals find. 
Of God and nature meant to mere mankind. 
Reason's whole pleasures, all the joys of sense. 
Lie in three words — health, peace, and competence, 

POl'E. 



THE BRITISH POETS FROM CHAUCER TO JOHNSON. 

AS amid the gloom of night. 

When no star emits its light. 

Swift the meteor's sudden ray 

Gleams a momentary day ; 

Thus gay Chaucer's mirthful rhymes 

Glitter'd amid barb'rous times. 

Next descriptive Spenser shrouds 

Truth in allegory's clouds. 

And in Gloriana's name 

Sings Eliza's matchless fame. 

Peerless Shakspeare brightly shone * ^"^V^ 

With a splendour all his own : -^ ^®^ ^ 

While with eloquence divine '^-f 

Nature speaks thro' ev'ry line ; ^ ^^ 

Scorning frigid rules of art, - *** -^^'^ 

He enchants the yielding heart, '"^^ *^^ 

O'er the subject passion reigns, ''l^^^l?^ 

Reason charms, and judgment chains, / «i saiia 

And with unresisted sway, --^ m&i<K) oair ni 

Steals each captive sense away, '^ ^^ "^'^^ '"^ ' ^; 

Jonson's labour'd scenes impart I; 

Less of genius, more of art, "^ 



K 



78 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Join'd with Beaumont's friendly name, 

Fletcher gain'd dramatic fame : 

One for brighter wit renown'd^ 

One for judgment more profound. 

Loyal Cowley's virtuous mind 

Copious wit to learning join'd. 

Denham in more measur'd lines 

British poesy refines. 

Teaching in his nervous page. 

Skill to the succeeding age. 

Strong description, thoughts sublime 

Soaring beyond place or time. 

Scenes of wonder, terror, pain. 

Glow thro' Milton's lofty strain. 

Whether his aspiring flight 

Joins the dazzling sons of light. 

Or amid th' infernal reign 

Meets the fall'n angelic train. 

Or in Eden's blissful groves 

With the first of mortals roves, 

Awful grandeur still is shown 

Unexampled, and alone. 

Lavish wit and humour gay 

Crown sarcastic Butler's lay, 

Form'd to humble and deride 

Zealots' hypocritic pride. 

Bending with impassion'd mien 

O'er pathetic Otway's scene. 

Sympathy with streaming eye 

Mourns fictitious misery ; 

For such touching woes are shown 

As each breast must feel its own. 

Courtly Waller's polish'd strain 

Sacharissa woo'd in vain ; 

Nor his genius nor his love 

Could the scornful beauty move. 

High amid the sons of fame 

View exhaustless Dryden's name, 

Dryden whose expansive mind 

Strength Vt^ith harmony combin'd ; 

But chill Poverty's controul. 

Oft depress'd his vigorous soul; 

And indignant we survey 

Adulation stain his lay. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 79 

Philips in majestic strain 
Sings Pomona's cultur'd reign. 
Wit and learning blushing boast 
Smith, by vile intemp'rance lost. 
Easy numbers, smooth and gay. 
Sweetly flow thro' Parnel's lay. 
Fascinating beauties glow ^ 

In the graceful lines of Rowe. 
Warmest praises Garth attend. 
Poverty's and Merit's friend. 
Addison's enlighten'd page 
Charm'd while it reform'd the age ; 
There philosophy portray'd 
Frown'd in no forbidding shade, , 
And mid each perplexing care * 
Virtue shines divinely fair. 
Prior shows how mental worth, 
Far excels the pride of birth ; 
For by talents only rais'd, 
Courtiers sought him, monarchs prais'd. 
Sparkling wit's incessant blaze 
CoNGREVE crown'd with early bays. 
Pensive Gay repin'd to see 
Human hope's uncertainty ; 
Hope^ whose visions, bright as vain. 
Still delude, yet still enchain. 
In despairing Hammond's lines. 
With new grace TibuUus shines. 
Constant friendship's sacred fiame 
Still illumines Tickell's name, 
Which thro' life conspicuous shone, 
Join'd with taste and Addison. 
Bright was Swift's meridian pride, 
Harley's friend, and Ireland's guide : 
Horrid o'er his closing scene 
Gloom'd pale frenzy's haggard mien. 
Thus, hke beauty's fragile prime. 
Stronger wit must yield to time. 
Where does fleeting bliss then rest ? 
Only in religion's breast. — 
Brilliant fancy, judgment clear, 
Melody beyond compeer, 
Quick intelligence of mind. 
Reason strong, and thought refln'd, 

E ^ 



AH.^. 



AH that genius, all that art 

Can of magic force impart. 

Varied beauties to display 

Meet in Pope's enchanting lay. 

Listening to the tuneful strain 

Livid Envy frowns in vain. 

While warm Admiration pays 

Tributes of ecstatic praise. 

By luxuriant Thomson led 

Fancy climbs the mountains head ; 

Wanders by pale Cynthia's light 

Mid the polar half year's night. 

Where refulgent meteors glow 

O'er perpetual hills of snow ; 

Shuddering from th' impending steep. 

Views th' unfathomable deep : 

Or, recoiling from the sight, 

Turns where softer scenes invite; 

Mid the forest's cool retreat 

Shuns the noontide's scorching heat ; 

Or in the translucent wave 

Seems the fervid limbs to lave. 

Or mid Afric's sunny vales 

Breathes the aromatic gales. 

While the dazzl'd eyes survey 

Scenes, exuberantly gay, 

Shenstone mid his lov'd retreat , 

Sung Alcides' lofty fate ; 

How in early youth his mind 

Pleasure's faithless lures declin'd. 

And by hardy virtue train'd. 

Deathless bliss, and glory gain'd. 

Sweetly flow the solemn strains 

When desponding Young complains. 

Mourning, midnight's deepest gloom. 

Fair Narcissa's early doom : 

.Young, who erst severe and gay 

Shone in satire's daring lay. rio vsrli 

Akenside in colours warm _ AiawA ^w^^: 

Paints imagination's charm, j-d b^edD 

Careless Churchill's vigorous nunti, rr | *^,: , 

Pours his satire unconfin'd. y V • O 

Goldsmith's winning Iines_impart^, ;;;,2^^„ j 

boft benerolence of hearK^j^^^ ^f,^^^^^ 



Where the moon with glimmering rajr'ij^ 

Lights the church-yard's lonely way, 

By pale contemplation led. 

Moral Gray delights to tread. 

Mason with instructive lay. 

Warns th* ambitious, fair, and gay. 

While o'er beauty's sable bier 

Admiration drops a tear. 

Sense, by studious thought refin'd. 

Critic taste with candour join'd. 

Strong discernment, just, and clear. 

Graceful diction, truth severe. 

Piety's seraphic flame 

Mark enlighten'd Johnson's name ! 

LADY MANNERS. 



ON THE DEATH OF LADY COVENTRY. 

THE midnight clock has toll'd ! and hark ! the bell 
Of death beats slow ! Heard ye the note profound ? 

It pauses now ; and now, with rising knell. 
Flings to the hollow gale its sullen sound. 

Yes — Coventry is dead. Attend the strain. 
Daughters of Albion ! ye that, light as air. 

So oft have tripp'd in her fantastic train. 
With hearts as gay, and faces half as fair. 

For she was fair beyond your brightest bloom ; 

(This envy own, since now her bloom is fled ;) 
Fair as the forms that, wove in Fancy's loom. 

Float in light vision round the poet's head. 

Whene'er with soft serenity she smil'd. 

Or caught the orient blush of quick surprise, 

How sweetly mutable, how brightly wild. 
The liquid lustre darted from her eyes ! 

Each look, each motion, wak'd a new-born grace. 
That o'er her form its transient glory cast : 

Some lovelier wonder soon usurp'd the place, 
Chas'd by a charm still lovelier than the last 

That bell again ! it tells us what she is ; 

On what she was, no more the strain prolong :-^ 
Luxuriant fancy, pause ! an hour like this 

Demands the tribute of a serious song. 

E5 



S2 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Maria claims it from the sable bier. 

Where, cold and wan, the sluoib'rer rests her head : 
In still small whispers, to Reflection's ear. 

She breathes the solemn dictates of the dead. 

O catch the awful notes, and lift them loud I 
Proclaim the theme by sage, by fool, rever'd ! 

Hear it, ye young, ye vain, ye great, ye proud ' 
Tis Nature speaks—and Nature will be heard. 

Yes — ye shall hear, and tremble as you hear. 

While, high with health, your hearts exulting leap ; 

E'en in the midst of pleasure's mad career 
The mental monitor shall wake and weep. 

For say, than Coventry's propitious star 
What brighter planet on your births arose ? 

Or gave of fortune's gifts an ampler ahare. 
In life to lavish, or by death to lose \ 

Early to lose ! While borne on busy wing. 
Ye sip the nectar of each varying bloom ; 

Nor fear, while basking in the beams of spring. 
The wintry storm that sweeps you to the tomb. 

Think of her fate I revere the heav'nly hand 
That led her hence, tho' soon, by steps so slow ; 

Long at her couch Death took his patient stand. 
And menac'd oft, and oft withheld the blow ; 

To give reflection time, with lenient art. 
Each fond delusion from her soul to steal; 

Teach her from folly peaceably to part, 

And wean her from a world she lov'd so well. 

Say, are ye sure his mercy shall extend 
To you so long a span ? Alas, ye sigh ! 

Make then, while yet ye may, your God your friend. 
And learn with equal ease to sleep or die ! 

Nor think the Muse, whose sober voice ye hear. 
Contracts with bigot frown her sullen brow ; 

Casts round religion's orb the mists of fear. 

Or shades with hoiTors what with smiles should glov* 

No ; she would wai*m you with seraphic fire. 
Heirs as you are of Heav'n's eternal day ; 

Would bid you boldly to that Heav'n aspire. 
Not sink to slumber in your cells of clay. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 83 

Know, ye were form'd to range yon azure field. 

In yon ethereal founts of bliss to lave : 
For then, secure in faith's protecting shield. 

The sting from Death, the vict'ry from the grave ! 

Is this the bigot's rant ? Away, ye vain ; 

Your hopes, your fears, in doubt, in dulness steep : 
Go soothe your souls, in sickness, grief, or pain. 

With the sad solace of eternal sleep. 

Yet will I praise you, triflers as ye are. 

More than those preachers of your fav'rite creed ; 

Who proudly swell the brazen throat of war, 
Who form the phalanx, bid the battle bleed : 

Nor wish for more ; who conquer, but w^ho die. 
Hear folly, hear ! and triumph in the tale ! 

Like you they reason, not like you enjoy 
The breeze of bliss that fills your silken sail. 

On pleasure's glitt'ring stream ye gaily steer 
Your little course to old Oblivion's shore ; 

They dare the storm, and, thro' th' inclement year. 
Stem the rough surge, and brave the torrent's roar. 

Is it for glory ? — that just Fate denies ! 

Long must the warrior moulder in his shroud. 
Ere from her trump the heav'n-breath'd accents rise. 

That lift the hero from the fighting crowd ! , 

Is it his grasp of empire to extend ? 

To curb the fury of exulting foes ? 
Ambition, cease ! the idle contest end : 

'Tis but a kingdom thou canst win or lose. 

And why must murder'd myi-iads lose their all 
(If life be all) ? — why desolation low'r. 

With famish'd frown, on this affrighted baU, 
That thou may'st flame the meteor of an hour ? 

Go, wiser ye, that flutter life away, 

CroM-n with the mantling juice the goblet high ! 
Weave the light dance, with festive freedom gay. 

And live your moment, since the next ye die! 

Yet know, vain sceptics ! know, th' almighty Mind^ 
Who breath'd on man a portion of his Sire ; 

Bade his free soul, by earth nor time confin'd. 
To Heav'n, to immortality, aspire. 

E6 



84} CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Nor shall the pile of hope, his mercy rear'd. 

By vain philosophy be e'er destroy'd : 
Eternity, by all or wish'd or fear'd, 

Shall be by all or suffer'd or enjoy'd ! masoK, 



ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY. 

WHAT beck'ning ghost along the moonlight shade 

Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ? 

*Tis she ! — But why that bleeding bosom gor'd ? 

Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ? 

Oh, ever beauteous, ever friendly ! tell. 

Is it in Heaven a crime to love too well ? 

To bear too tender, or too firm a heart. 

To act a lover's, or a Roman's part .^ 

Is there no bright reversion in the sky. 

For those who greatly think, or bravely die.? 

Why bade ye else, ye Pow'rs ! her soul aspire 
Above the vulgar flight of low desire ? 
Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes ; 
The glorious fault of angels and of gods. 
Thence; to their images on earth it flows. 
And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows. 
Most souls, 'tis true, but peep out once an age. 
Dull sullen pris'ners in the body's cage : 
Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years 
Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres ; 
Like eastern kings, a lazy state they keep. 
And close confin'd to their own palace sleep. 

From these perhaps (ere Nature bade her die) 
Fate snatch'd her early to the pitying sky. 
As into air the purer spirits flow. 
And sep'rate fVom their kindred dregs below ; 
So flew the soul to its congenial place. 
Nor left one virtue to redeem her race. 

But thou, false guardian of a charge too good. 
Thou mean deserter of thy brother's blood I 
See on these ruby lips the trembling breath. 
The cheeks now fading at the blast of death ; 
Cold is that breast which warm'd the world before. 
And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. 
Thus, if eternal justice rules the ball. 
Thus shall your wives, and thus your children, fall : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETfiY. «%S 

On all the line a sudden vengeance wait^'?^ -^^^'^ 3?^ 
And frequent hearses shall besiege your gates ; ' . 
There passengers shall stand, and pointing saj^^ ;"^*^ 
(While the long fun'rals blacken all the yv&y^ iisfit. 
" Lo ! these were they whose souls the Furies steeVd, 
And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield. 
Thus unlamented pass the proud away", ■ ? Ji 

The gaze of fools, and pageants of a day lo^c! TAHW 
So perish all whose breast ne'er learned to gloirasSivnf 
For others' good, or melt at others' woe." f sda ^IT 

What can atone, (oh ever-injur'd shade !) * -;iW 
Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid? iO 

No friend's complaint, no kind domestic tear, I ?! 

Pleas'd thy pale ghost, or grac'd thy mournful bier x/t 
By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, a -is ol 
By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd^ ^^mdi pJ 
By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, ;• lol 
By strangers honour'd, and by strangers mourn'd I j 
What though no friends in sable weeds appear, , . 

Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, ; 
And bear about the mockery of woe ^r; 

To midnight dances, and the public show ; ;^ j ;. 

What though no weeping Love thy ashes grace, ;_' C 
Nor polish'd marble emulate thy face ; C! j? 

What though no sacred earth allow thee room, ; , ; 
Nor hallo w'd dirge be mutter'd o'er thy tomb ; ; |^ ^ 
Yet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dress'd. 
And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast: 
There shall the morn her earliest tears bestoW^*^^ J" "^^^".J^ 
There the first roses of the year shall blow ; ^^^^ "' *^^ *' 
While angels with their silver wings o'ershade 
The ground, now sacred by thy relics made. 

So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name. 
What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fkme. 
How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not. 
To whom related, or by whom begot; 
A heap of dust alone remains of thee; ,a^^ ^q.|j ||^g 
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall TSef ,„,,,, '^tj>£l 

Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung^ g,^^ 
Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongu^J g^rf 
E'en he whose soul now melts in mournful lays, ; ^^IqQ} 
Shall shortly want the generous tear he pays; i , |jfj/^ 
Then from his closing eyes thy form sh^ part, ^iiiiT 



86 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Life's idle bus'ness at one gasp be o'er^ 
The muse forgot, and thou belov'd no more ! 



MEMORY. 



HAIL, Memorj?^ hail ! in thy exhaustless mine. 
From age to age unnumbered treasures shine ! 
Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey. 
And Place and Time are subject to thy sway ! 
Thy pleasures most we feel when most alone. 
The only pleasures we can call our own ! 
Lighter than air Hope's summer- visions die. 
If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky ; 
If but a beam of sober reason play, 
Lo ! Fancy's fairy fi-ost-work melts away ! 
But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Pow'r, 
Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour ? 
These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, 
Pour round her path a stream of living light. 
And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest. 
Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! 

ROGERS. 



A COMPARISON. 

THE lapse of time and rivers is the same. 

Both speed their journey with a restless stream : 

The silent pace with which they steal away. 

No wealth can bribe, no praj^'rs persuade to stay : 

Alike irrevocable both when past. 

And a wide ocean swallows both at last. 

Though each resemble, each in ev'ry part, 

A diiF 'rence strikes, at length, the musing heart : 

Streams never flow in vain ; where streams abound. 

How laughs the land, with various plenty crown'd ! 

But time, that should enrich the nobler mind. 

Neglected, leaves a dreary waste behind. cowp: 



TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN LEAVING THE UNIVERSITY. 

ERE yet, ingenuous Youth, thy steps retire 

From Cam's smooth margin, and the peaceful vale ; 

Where Science call'd thee to her studious quire. 
And met thee musing in her cloisters pale ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 87 

O ! let thy friend (and may he boast the name) 
Breathe from his artless reed one parting lay ! 

A lay like this thy early virtues claim, 
And this let voluntary friendship pay. 

Yet know, the time arrives, the dangerous time. 
When all those virtues, opening now so fair, 

Transplanted to the world's tempestuous clime. 

Must learn each passion's boisterous breath to bear. 

There if Ambition, pestilent and pale. 

Or Luxury, should taint their vernal glow ; 

If cold Self-interest, with her chilling gale. 

Should blast th' unfolding blossoms ere they blow : 

If mimic hues, by Art or Fashion spread. 

Their genuine simple colouring should supply ; 

O ! with them may these laureate honours fade ; 
And with them (if it can) my friendship die. 

And do not blame, if, tho' thyself inspire. 

Cautious I strike the panegyric string ; 
The Muse full oft pursues a ni'eteor fire. 

And, vainly vent'rous, soars on waxen wing. 

Too actively av/ake at Friendship's voice. 
The poet's bosom pours the fervent strain ; 

Till sad reflection blames the hasty choice. 
And oft invokes Oblivion's aid in vain. 

Go then, my friend, nor let thy candid breast 
Condemn me, if I check the plausive string ; 

Go to the wayward world ; complete the rest ; 
Be what the purest Muse would wish to sing. 

Be still thyself; that open path of Truth 

Which led thee here, let Manhood firm pursue ; 

Retain the sweet simplicity of Youth, 
And all thy virtue dictates, dare to do. 

Still scorn, with conscious pride, the mask of Art, 
On Vice's front let fearful Caution lour ; 

And teach the diffident, discreeter part 

Of knaves that plot, and fools that fawn for power. 

So, round thy brow, when Age's honours spread. 
When Death's cold hand unstrings thy Mason's lyre, 

When the green turf lies lightly on his head. 
Thy v»^orth shall some superior bard inspire. 



88 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

He to the amplest bounds of Time's domain, 

On Rapture's plume shall give thy name to fly ;^ 

For trust, with rev'rence trust, this Sabine strain Ci 
" The Muse forbids the virtuous man to die." 

Mason. 



AN ODE. 

"WHAT constitutes a state ? 

Not high-rais'd battlement and labour'd mound. 
Thick wall, or moated gate : 

Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crown'd: 
Not bays and broad-arm'd ports. 

Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride : 
Not starr'd and spangled courts. 

Where low-bred baseness wafts perfume to pride : 
No — m.en, high-minded men. 

With powers as far above dull brutes endu'd. 
In forest, brake, or den. 

As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude : 
Men, who their duties know. 

But know their rights ; and, knowing, dare maintain. 
Prevent the long-aim'd blow. 

And crush the tyrant, while they rend the chain. 
These constitute a state : 

And sovereign Law, that state's collected will, 
O'er thrones and globes elate. 

Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill. 
Smit by her sacred frown, 

The fiend Dissension like a vapour sinks ; 
And e'en th' all-dazzling Crown , 

Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. 
Such Was this heaven-lov'd Isle, 

Than Lesbos fairer, and the Cretan shore. 
No more shall Freedom smile ? 

Shall Britons languish, and be men no more ? 
Since all must life resign. 

Those sweet rewards, that decorate the brave, 
Tis folly to decline. 

And sink inglorious to a silent grave. joneb. 



WHAT are all thy boasted treasures, -iii nsdT 
Tender sorrows, transient pleasures r ' r ^^ ^ 



CLASSICAL iidlSLlSH POETRY^'* Sf? 

Anxious hopes, and jealous fears, tit?p srfi ot sll 
Laughing hours, and mourning years ! pH nO 
DeekW with brightest tints at morn, ^UniS m:Pl 

At twilight, with'ring^ on a thoEfli^l ssoM silT - 
Like the gentle rose of spring, 
Chill'd by ev'ry Zephyr's wing : 
Ah ! how soon its colour flies. 
Blushes, trembles, falls, and dies. ,^^^ tamw 

What is youth ? — a smiling sorrowy'''^^^, f 5 
Blithe to-day, and sad to-morrow ; '^ , ^ %it 

Never fix'd, for ever ranging, ^ ^^ ^ 

Laugliing, weeping, doating, changing; ^^^^ "^'^ , t>j 
Wild, capricious, giddy, vain, '*' " ' ^ =" 

Cloy*d with pleasure, nurs'd with pain : 
Age steals on with wintry face, 
Ev'ry rapturous hope to chase; ^imi-h ^^ 

Like a wither'd, sapless tree, ' ' ' ' 

Bow'd to chilling Fate's decree ; 
Stripp'd of all its foliage gay. 
Drooping at the close of day ; 
What of tedious Life remains ? 
Keen regrets and cureless pains ; 
Till Death appears, a welcome friend, -« . . 

To bid the scene of soi*row end. ^ ^^^,..^ 



ELEGY. 

WHY mourns my friend ? Why weeps his downcast eye f 
That eye where Mirth, where Fancy us'd to shine ! 

Thy cheerful meads reprove that swelling sigh ; 
Spring ne'er enamell'd fairer meads than thine» 

Art thou not lodg'd in Fortune's warm embrace ? 

Wert thou not form'd by Nature's partial care ? 
Bless'd in thy song, and bless'd in every grace. 

That wins the friend, or that enchants the fair ? 

* Damon,' said he, ' thy partial praise restrain ; 

* Not Damon's friendship can my peace restore : 

* Alas ! his very praise awakes my pain, ■-^~ 
' And my poor wounded bosom bleeds ^e more. 

* For, oh ! that Nature on my birth had frown'd \ 

* Or Fortune fix'd me t16 some lowly cell ! 

' Then had my bosom 'seap'd this fatal w6und^\ 
' Nor had I bid these v^rnaliiSweetspfeEewelk 1 



90 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

' But led by Fortune's hand, her darling child, 

* My youth her vain licentious bhss.admir'd : 

* In Fortune's train, the Syren Flattery smil'd, 

' And rashly hallow'd all her queen inspir'd. 

< Of folly studious, e'en of vices vain ; 

^ Ah, vices ! gilded by the rich and gay ! 
' I chas'd the guileless daughters of the plain ; 

' Nor dropp'd tlie chase, till Jessy was my prey. 

' Poor, artless maid ! to stain thy spotless name, 
' Expense, and ai't, and toil, united strove ; 

' To lure a breast that felt the purest flame, 
' Sustain'd by virtue, but betray'd by love. 

' School'd in the science of love's mazy wiles, 

' I cloth'd each feature with affected scorn ; 

' I spoke of jealous doubts, and fickle smiles, 

* And, feigning, left her anxious and forlorn. 

* Then while the fancy'd rage alarm'd her care, 

' Warm to deny, and zealous to disprove ; 

' I bade my words their wonted softness wear, 

' And seiz'd the minute of returning love. 

* To thee, my Damon, dare I paint the rest ? 

' Will, yet, thy love a candid ear incline ? 
' Assur'd that virtue, by misfortune press'd, 
" Feels not the sharpness of a pang like mine. 

' Nine envious moons matur'd her growing shame ; 

' Erewhile to flaunt it in the face of day : 
' When scorn'd by virtue, stigmatiz'd by fame, 

' Low at my feet desponding Jessy lay.' 

" Henry," she said, " by thy dear form subdu'd, 
** See the sad relics of a nymph undone ! 

" I find, I find, each rising sob renew'd ; 
" I sigh in shades, and sicken at the sun. 

*' Amid the dreary gloom of night, I cry 

" When will the morn's once pleasing scenes return ? 
" Yet what can morn's returning ray supply, 

" But foes that triumph — or, but friends that mourn } 

" Alas ! no more the joyous mom appears, 

" That led the tranquil hours of spotless fame ; 

" For I have steep'd a father's couch in tears, 

" And ting'd a mother's glowing cheek with shame. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 91 

** The vocal birds that raise their matin strain, 
" The sportive lambs increase my pensive moan ! 

" All seem to chase me from the cheerful plain, 
" And talk of truth and innocence alone. 

" If thro' the garden's flow'ry tribes I stray, 

" Where bloom the jasmines that could once allure"— 

' Hope not to find delight in us/ they say, 
' For we are spotless, Jessy, we are pure/ 

" Ye flowers ! that well approach a nymph so frail, 
" Say, could ye with my virgin fame compare ? 

" The brightest bud that scents the vernal gale, 
" Was not so fragrant, and was not so fair. 

** Now the grave old alarm the gentler young ; 

"And all my fame's abhorr'd contagion flee: 
*' Trembles each lip, cind falters every tongue, 

*' That bids the morn propitious smile on me. 

" Thus, for your sake, I shun each human eye ; 

" I bid the sweets of blooming youth adieu : 
*' To die I languish ; but I dread to die, 

'' Lest my sad fate should nourish pangs for you. 

" Raise me from earth, the pangs of want remove, 
" And let me silent seek some friendly shore ; 

" There only, banish'd from the form I love, 
" My weeping virtue shall relapse no more. 

" Be but my friend ! I ask no dearer name ; 

" Be such the meed of some more artful fair : 
*' Nor could it heal my peace, or chase my shame 

'' That pity gave what love refus'd to share. 

" Force not my tongue to ask its scanty bread; 

" Nor hurl thy Jessy to the vulgar crew ; 
" Not such the parent's board at which I fed ; 

'^ Not such the precept from liis lips I drew ! 

" Haply, when age has silver'd o'er my hair, 
" Malice may learn to scorn so mean a spoil ; 

" Envy may slight a face no longer fair, 
" And Pity welcome to my native soil !" 

* She spoke — nor was I born of savage race ! 

' Nor could these hands a niggard boon assign ; 

* Grateful she clasp'd me in a last embrace, 

' And vow'd to wast her life in pray'rs for mine. 



9SP CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

' I saw her foot the lofty bark ascend ; 

' I saw her breast, with every passion heave ; 

* I left her—torn from every earthly friend : 

' Oh ! my hard bosom, which could bear to leave I 

* Brief let me be — the fatal storm arose ; 

' The billows rag'd ; the pilot's art was vain . 

* O'er the tall mast the circling surges close ; 

* My Jessy — floats upon the wat'ry plain ! 

' And see, my youth's impetuous fires decay ! 

' Seek not to stop reflection's bitter tear j 
' But wai'n the frolic, and instruct the gay, 

' From Jessy, floating on her wat'ry bier/ 

SHENSTONEi 



ADAMS MORNING HYMN. 

THESE are Thy glorious works, Parent of good. 

Almighty ! Thine this universal frame. 

Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! 

Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heav'ns. 

To us invisible, or dimly seen 

In these Thy lowest works ; yet these declare 

Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. 

Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light. 

Angels ! for ye behold him, and with songs 

And choral symphonies, day without night. 

Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in heaven. 

On earth, join all ye creatures to extol 

Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 

Fairest of stars, last in the train of night. 

If better thou belong not to the dawn. 

Sure pledge of day, that crown' st the smiling morn 

With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere. 

While day arises, that sweet hour of primfe. 

Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul. 

Acknowledge him thy greater ; sound his praise 

In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st. 

And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st. 

Moon, that now meef st the orient sun, now fly'st 

With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies ; 

And ye five other wand'ring fires that move;ii^ ■ riA 

In mystic dance, j^iot without song, resound H ^riW ^' 

His praise, who out of darkness call'd up li^ht, - 

Air, and ye elements^ the eldest birth 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 93 

Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 

Pei-petual circle, multiform, and mix 

And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change { I 

Vary to our great Maker's still new praise. 

Ye mists and exhalations that now rise 

From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray. 

Till the sun paints your fleecy skirts with gold, 

Tn honour to the world's great author rise ; 

Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky. 

Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers. 

Rising or falling, still advance his praise. 

His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow. 

Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, 

Willi every plant, in sign of worship, wave. 

Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow. 

Melodious murmurs warbling, tune his praise. 

Join voices, all ye living souls : ye birds. 

That singing, up to heaven's gate ascend. 

Bear on your wings, and in your notes, his praise. 

Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk 

The eartli, or stately tread, or lowly creep. 

Witness, if I be silent, mom or even. 

To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade. 

Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. 

Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still 

To give us only good ; and if the night 

Have gathered aught of evil, or conceal'd. 

Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark, milton. 



THE HERMIT. 

AT the close of the day, whem the hamlet is still. 

And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove ; 
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill. 

And nought but the nightingale's song- in the grove ; 
'Twas then by the cave of the mountain reclin'd, 

A Hermit his nightly complaint thus began : 
Tho' mournful his numbers, his soul was resign'd ; 

He thought as a sage, tho' he felt as a man. 

" Ah ! why, thus abandon'd to darkness and woe ? 

" Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy sad strain ?. 
" For Spring shall return, and a lover bestow, '7 

" And thy bosom no trace of misfortune retain. 



9-4 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

" Yet, if pity inspire thee, O cease not thy lay ! 

" Mourn, sweetest companion, man calls thee to mourn j 
" O soothe him whose pleasures, like thine, pass away ! 

" Full quickly they pass — but they never return ! 

*' Now, gilding remote on the verge of the sky, 

" The moon, half-extinct, a dim crescent displays ; 
'•' But lately I mark'd, when majestic on high 

" She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. 
" Roll on then, fair orb, and with gladness pursue 

" The path that conducts thee to splendour again : 
*^ But man's faded glory no change shall renew : 

" Ah, fool ! to exult in a glory so vain ! 

" 'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more: 

" I mourn ; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you ; 
'' For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, 

^' Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew. 
" Nor yet for the ravage of Winter I mourn ; 

^' Kind Nature the embryo-blossom shall save : 
" But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn ? 

*' O when shall it dawn on the night of the grave ?" 

BEATTIK. 



THE SLAVE TRADE. 

THERE are, gloomy Ocean ! a brotherlesp clan, 

Who traverse thy banishing waves. 
The poor disinherited outcasts of Man, 

Whom Avarice coins into Slaves ! 
From the homesof their kindred, their forefathers' graves. 

Love, Friendship, and Conjugal Bliss, 

They are bragg'd on the hoary abyss ; 
The shark hears their shrieks, and ascending to-day 
Demands of the spoiler his share of the prey ! 

Then joy to the tempest that whelms them beneath. 

And makes their destruction its sport ; 
But woe to the winds that propitiously breathe. 

And waft them in safety to port. 
Where the vultures and vampires of Mammon resort ; 

Where Europe exultingly drains 

The life-blood from Africa's veins ; 
Where the image of God is accounted a base. 
And the image of Caesair set up in its place. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 95 

The hour is approaching — a terrible hour ! 

And Vengeance is bending her bow ; 
Ah'eady the clouds of the hurricane lour, 

And rock-rending whirlwinds blow ; 
Back rolls the huge Ocean — Hell opens below ; 

The floods return headlong— they sweep 

The slave-culturM lands to the deep ; 
In a moment entomb'd in the horrible void. 
By their Maker himself^ in his anger destroy'd. 

Shall this be the fate of the cane-planted isles. 

More lovely than clouds in the west. 
When the sun o'er the ocean descending in smiles. 

Sinks softly and sweetiy to rest ? 
No !— -Father of Mercy ' befriend the opprest — 

At the voice of thy Gospel of Peace, 

May the sorrows of Africa cease,. 
And the Slave and his Master devoutly unite 
To walk in thy Freedom, and dwell in thy Light ! 

MONTGOMERY. 



THE WORST OF ILLS. 

WHAT wounds more deep than arrows keen 

Piercing the heart subdu'd ? 
What renders life a dreary scene ? 

Thy sting, IngratituuuI 

For ev'ry pain that man can know 
Has still an antidote for woe ; 
Save where Ingratitude is found. 
Giving its deep and deadly wound. 

Does Love neglected, pining sad. 

On ev'ry joy obtrude ? 
Does Pleasure fly the bosom glad. 

Stung by Ingratitude .^ 

Oh, yes ! for what is life to those 
W^ho find no hour of soft repose ? 
Who trace in ev'ry path that weed. 
Which bids the feeling bosom bleed ? 

Thou fiend Ingratitude ! to thee 

All lesser evils bend ; 
Thou potent shaft of destiny. 

Where will thy poisons end ? 



9© ■? CLASSICAL ENGLISH P^k^R^^ 

The wretch who smarts beneath thy fang, ;:f 
Day after day endures the pang ; rbEsT 

And finds there is no bahn to cure rmgli 

Thy wound, for ever deep and sure ! ," ^mO 

Where'er in life's precarious scene 4 nM 

My weary feet have stray'd, ^^ 

Thou hast my taunting follower been - 
In sunshine and in shade. 

In poverty I found thee ever 1 

The bonds of social feelings sever ; :1 

And when I sunk, by grief subdu'd, \ 

I felt thy wound. Ingratitude ! ^ 

I found thee in the smile of Love, 

In Friendship's sacred vest. 
In rustic meekness saw thee move, 

Pois'ning the untaught breast. 

When Fortune, often dull and blind, 
Heap'd splendour on the vulgar mind. 
Scattering on pride and vice her favour. 
Ingratitude, I found thee ever. 



ROBINSON. 



INDIFFERENCE. 

FLY, Indifference, hated maid, 
Seek Spitzbergen's horrid shade; 
Where old Winter keeps his court. 
There, fit guest, do thou resort. 
And thy frosty breast repose 
Amidst congenial ice and snows , 
There reside, insipid maid. 
But ne'er infest my Emma's head. 

Or else seek the cloister's pale. 
Where reluctant virgin's veil. 
In the corner of whose heart 
Earth with heaven still keeps apart; 
There thy fullest influence shower. 
Free poor grace from passion's power ; 
Give fond Eloisa rest. 
But shun, O shun, my Emma's breast. 

Or on Lyce, wanton maid. 
Be thy chilling finger laid; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. -^ 97^^ 

Quench the frolic beam that flies ,< >, ^^rfT 

From her bright, fantastic eyes : 

Teach the sweet coquette to know 

Heart of ice in breast of snow ; ^ ,,[ f 

Give peace to her, give peace to me. 

But leave, O leave, my Emma free ! 

But if thou, in grave disguise, i 

Seek'st to make that nymph thy prize; 

If that nymph, deceiv'd by thee. 

Listens to thy sophistry ; 

If she courts thy cold embraces. 

And to thee resigns her graces ; 

What, alas ! is left for me, 

But to fly, myself, to thee ? pennant. 



THE AFRICAN. 

FAINT-GAZING on the burning orb of day. 
When Afric's injur'd son expiring lay ; 
His forehead cold, his labouring bosom bare, 
His dewy temples, and his .sable hair. 
His poor companions kiss'd, and cried aloud, 
Eejoicing, whilst in peace his head he bow'd 
" Now thy long, long task is done, 
" Swiftly, brother, wilt thou run, 
" Ere to-morrow's golden beam 
" Glitters on thy parent-stream, 
•' Swiftly the delights to share 
'' The feast of joy which waits thee there ' 
" Swiftly, brother, wilt thou ride, 
" O'er the long and storm}^ tide, ; 

" Fleeter than the hurricane, t B 

'* Till thou view those scenes again, 
'^ Where thy father's hut was rear'd, ; 

" Where thy mother's voice was heard ! 
" Where thy infant brother's play'd ^ 

*' Beneath the fragrant citron s shade ; 
" Where thro' green savannahs wide 
'* Cooling rivers silent glide ; 
*' Or the shrill sigarras sing 
" Ceaseless to their murmuring ; 
" Where the dance, the festive song, 1^1 ^^ ^ 
'' Of many a friend divided long,<fiU-ib xd^ ©0 

F 



98 CLA'SSrCAL ENGLISH. .PiQEta^;. 

'' Doorn'd thro' stranger lands to roam, 
'' Shall bid thy spirit welcome home ! 

" Fearless o'er tlie foaming tide, 
" Again thy light canoe vshall ride ; 
" Fearless on th' embattled plain 
*' Thou shalt lift thy lance again ; 
" Or, starting at the call of morn, 
" Wake tbe wild woods vvith thy horn ! 
" Or, rushing down the mountain slope, 
" O'ertake the nimble antelope ; 
'^ Or Uad the dance, 'mid blissful bands, 
*^ On cool Andracte's yellow sands ; 
'^ Or, in th' embow'ring orange grove, 
'* Tell to thy long-forsaken love 
*' The wouiids, the agony severe, 
*' Thy patient spirit suiFer'd here ! 

" Fear not now tlie tyrant's power, 
'*' Past is his insulting hour ; 
" Mark no more the sullen trait, 
" On Slavery's brow, of scorn and hate ; 
'* Hear no more the.long sigh borne, 
'•' Murmuring on the gales of morn ! 

" Go in peace— yet we remain 
" Far distant, toiling on in pain ; 
" Ere the great sun fires the skies, 
*' To our v/ork of woe we rise ; 
'' And see each night, without a friend, 
" The world's great Comforter descend : 

" Tell our brethren, when ye meet, 
" Thus we toil with weary feet ; 
" Yet tell them that love's gen'rous flame, 
*" In joy, in wretchedness, the same, 
" In distant worlds was ne'er forgot ; 
" And tell them that we murmur not. 
'' Tell them, tho' the pang will start, 
" And drain the life-blood from tlie heart: 
" Tell them, generous shame forbids 
" The tear to stain our burning lids ! 
" Tell them, in weariness and want 
" For our native hills we pant ; 
" Where soon, from shame and sorrow free, 
" We hope in death to follow thee." bowleo. 



ei#ASSICAL ENQLISH PbETRY. 99 



TO PROSPERITY. 

CELESTIAL maid, receive this pray'r J 

If e'er thy beam divine 
Should gild the brow of toiling Care, 

And oless a hut like mine. 

Let humble Worth, without a fear. 

Approach my ready door ; 
Nor let me ever see a tear. 

Regardless from the poor ! 

O bless me with an honest mind. 

Above all selfish ends ! 
Humanely warm to all mankind. 

And cordial to my friends. 

With conscious truth and honour still 

My actions let me guide ; 
And give no fear but that of ill. 

No scorn but that of pride. 

Thus form'd, thus happy, let me dare 

On Heaven's dread King to gaze ; 
Conclude my night in ardent pray'r. 

And wake my morn with praise: 

That hence my soul may hope to prove 

The utmost saints can know ; 
And share his gracious smile above. 

Whose laws she kept below. carteh. 



ON THE OCEAN. 

THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods^ 

There is a rapture on the lonely shore. 

There is society where none intrudes. 

By the deep sea, and music in its roar. 

I love not man the less, but nature more, 

From these our interviews, in which I steal 

From all I may be, or have been before. 

To mingle with the universe, and feel 

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

Thou glorious Mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time. 
Calm or convuls'd — in breeze, or gale, or storm. 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime— 

F2 



100 CLA SSICAL ENGLISH; POETRY. 

Th' image of Eternity — the throne 

Of the Invisible ; even from out thy shme 

The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 

Obeys thee : thou goest forth, dread, fathomless alone. 

BYRON. 



TO THE HERB ROSEMARY. 

SWEET scented fiower ! who art wont to bloom 

On January's front severe. 

And o'er the wintry desart drear^ 
To waft thy waste perfume ! 
Come, thou shait form my nosegay now. 
And I will bind thee round my brow. 

And as I twine the mournful wreath, 
I'll weave a melancholy song, 
And sweet the strain shall be, and long 

The melody of death. 

Come, funeral flow'r, who lov'st to dwell 

With the pale corse in lonely tomb. 

And throw across the desert gloom 
A sweet decaying smell. 
Come press my lips, and lie with me, 
Beneath the lowly alder tree. 

And v/e will sleep a pleasant sleep, 
And not a care shall dare intrude 
To break the marble solitude. 

So peaceful and so deep. 

And hark ! the wind-god, as he flies. 

Moans hollow in the forest trees. 

And sailing on the gusty breeze. 
Mysterious music dies ! 
Sv/eet flower ! that requiem wild is mine, 
ft warns me to the lowly shrine. 

The cold turf altar of the dead : 
My grave shall be in yon lone spot. 
Where, as I lie by all forgot, 

A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed, 

HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 101 

MODERN GREECE. 

HE who hath bent him o'er the dead. 

Ere the first day of death is fled ; 

The first dark day of nothingness. 

The last of danger and distress ; 

(Before decay's effacing fingers 

Have swept the lines v/here beauty lingers) 

And mark'd the mild angelic air — 

The rapture of repose that's there — 

The fix'd yet tender traits that streak 

The languor of the placid cheek. 

And — but for that sad shrowded eye. 
That fires not— v/ins not — weeps not — now. 
And but for that chill changeless brow, 

Where cold obstructions apathy 
Appals the gazing mourner's heart. 
As if to him it could impart 
The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon — 
Yes, but for these, and these alone, 
Some moments, aye, one treach'rous hour. 
He still might doubt the tyi-ant's power. 
So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd. 
The first — last look — by death reveal'd. 
Such is the aspect of this shore — 
'Tis Greece — but living Greece no more ! 
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair. 
We start — for soul is wanting there. 
Her's is the loveliness of death. 
That parts not quite with parting breath, 
But beauty with that fearful bloom. 
That hue which haunts it to the tomb — 
Expression's last receding ray, 
A gilded halo hovering round decay. 
The farewell beam of feeling past away ! 
Spark of that flame — perchance of heav'nly birth — 
Which gleams — but warms no more its cherish'd earth, 

LORD BYROK. 



GOOD-NATURE. 



HAIL, Cherub of the highest heav'n. 
Of look divine, a:nd temper even ; 

Celestial sweetness, exquisite of mien. 
Of every virtue, every praise, the queen ! 

F 3 



102 '^^etASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Soft gracefulness, and blooming youth. 

Where, grafted on the stem of Trutli, 

That Friendship reigns, no interest wn divide. 
And great Humility looks down an Piide. 

Oh ! curse on Slander's vip'rous tongue. 

That daily dares thy merit wrong ; 
Idiots usurp thy title and thy fame. 
Without or virtue, talent, taste, or name. 

Is apathy, is heart of steel. 

Nor ear to hear, nor sense to feel. 
Life idly inoffensive, such a grace. 
That it should steal thy name, and take thy place ? 

No — thou art active, spirit all. 

Swifter than lightning, at the call 

Of injur'd Innocence, or griev'd Desert, 
And large with liberality thy heart. 

Thy appetites in easy tides 

(As Reason's luminary guides) 

Soft slow — -no wind can work them to a storm. 
Correctly quick, dispassionately warm. 

Yet if a transport thou canst feel, 

"Tis only for a neighbour's weel ; 

Great, generous acts, thy ductile passions move. 
And smilingly thou weep'st with joy and love. 

Mild is thy mind to cover shame. 

Averse to envy, slow to blame. 

Bursting to praise, yet still sincere and free 

From Flattery's fawning tongue, and bending knee. 

Extensive, as from west to east. 

Thy love descends from man to beast ; 
Nought is excluded, little or infirm. 
Thou canst with greatness stoop to save a worm. 

Come, goddess, come with all thy charms, 

For oh ! I love thee, to my arms : 

All, all my actions guide, my fancy feed. 

So shall existence then be life indeed. smart 



TO FRIENDSHIP. 



COME, gentle pow'r, from whom ai'ose 
Whate'er life's chequer'd scene adorns ; 

From whom the living current flows 
Where Science fills her various urns : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. lOS 

Sacred to thee, yon marble dome, 

O goddess ! rears its awful head, 
Fraught with the stores of Greece and Rome, 

With gold and glowing gems inlaid; -, 

Where Art, by thy command, hath fix'd her seat§^' : 
And ev'ry Muse, and ev'ry Grace, retreat. 

For erst mankind, a savage race. 

As lawless robbers rang'd the woods; 
And chose, when weary'd with the chase, 

'Midst rocks and caves their dark abodes : 
Till, Friendship, thy persuasive strains. 

Powerful as Orpheus' magic song, 
Re-echo'd thro' the squalid plains. 

And drew the brutish herd along : 
Lost in surprise thy pleasing voice they own'd. 
Chose softer arts, and polish'd at the sound. 

Then Pity first her sacred flame 

•. Within their frozen bosoms rais'd ; 

Tho' faint the spark when Friendship came. 

When Friendship wav'd her v/ing it blaz'd : 
Twas then first heav'd the social sigli, 

The social tear began to flow ; 
They felt a sympathetic joy. 

And learn'd to melt at others' woe ; 
By just degrees Humanity refin'd. 
And Virtue fix'd her empire in the mind. 

O goddess ! when thy form appears. 

Revenge, and rage, and faction cease ; 
The soul no fury-passion tears. 

But all is harmony and peace. 
Aghast the purple tyrant stood. 

With awe beheld thy glowing charms ; 
Forgot the cursed thirst of blood. 

And long'd to grasp thee in his arms ; 
Felt in his breast unusual softness rise. 
And, deaf before, heard Pity's moving cries. 

Is there a wretch in Sorrow's shade, 

Who wastes, in tears. Life's iing'ring hours ? 

Is there, on whose devoted head 
Her vengeful curses Ate pours ? 

F4 



104 CLASSIGAL ENGWS8 POETRY. 

See to their aid fair Friendship flies, 

Theh' sorrows sympathetic feels. 
With lenient hand her balm applies. 

And ev'ry grief indulgent heals : 
The woe-fraught fiends before her stalk away. 
As spectres shun the flaming eye of Day. 

Oh ! for a faithful, lionest friend. 

To whom I ev'ry cai'e could trust ; 
Each weakness of rny soul commend. 

Nor fear him treach'rous or unjust ! 
Drive Flatt'ry's summer train away : 

Those busy, anxious, flutt'ring things. 
That insect-like, in Fortune's ray. 

Bask, and expand their gaudy wipgs. 
But, ah ! when once the transient gleam is o'er. 
Behold the change .'-—they die, and are no more. 

SCOTT. 

ON RETIREMENT. 

NOW genial Spring o'er lawn and grove 

Extends her vivid power ; 
Now Phoebus shines with mildest beams. 

And wakes each sleeping flower. 
Soft breezes fan the smiling mead. 

Kind dews refresh the plain ; 
While Beauty, Harmony, and Love, 

Renew their cheerful reign. 
Now far from business l^t me fly. 

Far from the crowded seat 
Of Envy, Pageantry, and Power, 

To some obscure retreat ; 
Where Plenty sheds, with liberal hand. 

Her various blessings round ; 
Where laughing Joy delighted roves. 

And roseate Health is found. 
Give me to climb the mountain's brow. 

When Morn's first blushes rise ; 
And view the fair extensive scene 

With Contemplation's eyes. 
And v/hile the raptur'd woodland choir 

Pours forth their love-taught lays ; 
I'll tune the grateful matin song 

To my Creator's praise. 



■ 'iCXASSlCAti "ENCjUsri '^"¥€^1^. *l05 

He bade the solar orb advance, ^^^^ " 

To cheer the gloomy sky ; 
And at the gentle voice of spring, 

Made hcary winter fly. 

lie dress'd the grove in smiHng green, 

Unlock'd the ice-bound rill ; 
Bade Flora's pride adorn the vale. 

And herbage crown the hill. 

To that all-gracious Source of Light, 

Let early incense rise : 
While on Devotion's wing the soul 

Ascends her native skies. 

And when the rapid car of day 

Illumes the farthest west ; 
When Sleep dissolves the captive's chains, 

And anguish sinks to rest ; 

Then let me range the shadowy lavv^ns, 

When Vesper's silver light 
Plays on the trembling streams, and gilds 

The sable veil of night. 

When every earthly care's at rest^ 

And musing Silence reigns ; 
Then active Fancy takes her flight 

Wide o'er th' ethereal plains : 

Soars through the trackless realms of space. 

Sees endless systems roll ; 
Whilst all harmoniously combine 

To form one beauteous whole. 

All hail, sweet Solitude ! to tliee. 

In thy sequester'd bower, 
Let me invoke the pastoral Muse, 

And every sylvan power. 

Dear pensive nymph, the tender thought 

And deep research is thine : 
"Tis thine to hail the tortur'd breast. 

And form the great design. 

On thy still bosom let me rest. 

Far from the clang of war ; 
Where stern Oppression's bloody chains 

Precede the victor's car. 



1&6 Ci/AfeSiCAL ENGLISH POETRY, 

Here fold rae in thy sacred arms. 

Where Albion's happy plains 
Exulting tell the nations round, 

A British Brunswick reigns. 

Here let me hail each rising sun. 

Here view each day's decline : 
Be fame and sway my Sovereign's lot. 

Be peace and freedom mine ! WHAtLEV. 



THE TULIP AND THE MYRTLE. 

'TWAS on the border of a stream 

A gaily-painted Tulip stood. 
And, gilded by the morning beam, 

Survey'd her beauties in the flood. 

And sure more lovely to behold. 
Might nothing meet the wistful eye. 

Than crimson fading into gold. 
In streaks of fairest symmetry. 

The beauteous Hower, with pride elate, 
Ah me ! that Pride with Beauty dwells ! 

Vainly aifects superior state. 

And thus in empty fancy swells : 

" O lustre of unrivall'd bloom ! 

" Fair painting of a hand divine ! 
" Superior far to mortal doom, 

" The hues of Heaven alone are mine ! 

'"^ Away, ye worthless, formless, race ! 

" Ye weeds, that boast the name of flowOTS, 
" No more my native bed disgrace, 

" Unmeet for tribes so mean as yours ! 

" Shall the bright daughter of the sun 
" Associate with the shrubs of earth ? 

" Ye slaves, your sovereign's presence shun I 
" Respect her beauties and her birth. 

" And thou, dull, sullen evergreen ! 

*' Shalt thou my shining sphere invade, 
" My noon-day beauties beam unseen, 

" Obscur'd beneath thy dusky shade ?" 



mmmmmt 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY* 107 

" Deluded flower ! (the Myrtle cries,) 
'* Shall we thy moment's bloom adore ? 

" The meanest shrub that you despise, 
" The meanest flower, has merit more. 

" That daisy in its simple bloom, 

" Shall last along the changing year ; 

" Blush on the snow of Winter's gloom, 
" And bid the smiling spring appear. 

•'« The violet, that, those banks beneath, 
" Hides from thy scorn its modest head, 

" Shall fill the air with fragrant breath, 
" When thou art in thy dusty bed. 

" Ev'n I, who boast no golden shade, 
*' Am of no shining tints possessed, 

*^ When lov/ thy lucid form is laid, 

" Shall bloom on many a lovely breast. 

" And he, whose kind and fostering care 
'' To thee, to me, our beings gave, 

" Shall near his breast my flow'rets wear, 
" And walk regardless o'er thy grave. 

" Deluded flower, the friendly screen 

" That hides thee from thy noon-tide ray, 

'' And mocks thy passion to be seen, 
" Prolongs thy transitory day. 

" But kindly deeds with scorn repaid, 
'' No more by virtue need be done : 

" I now withdraw my dusky shade, 
" And yield thee to the darling sun." 

Fierce on the flov/er the scorching beam 

With all its weight of glory fell ; 
The flower exulting caught the gleam. 

And lent its leaves a bolder smell. 

Expanded by the searching fire, 
. The curling leaves the breast disci os'd ; 
The mantling bloom w^as painted higher. 
And every latent charm expos'd. 

But when the sun was sliding low. 

And evening came with dews so cold ; 

The wanton beauty ceas'd to blov/. 
And sought her bending leaves to fold. 

F6 



1 08 .'CLASSICAi ENGtISH POETRY. 

Those leaves, alas ! no more would close ; 

Relax'd, exhausted, sickening, pale ; 
They left her to a parent's woes. 

And fled before the rising gale. langhornEc 



THE DEAD. 

OF them, who wrapt in Earth are cold. 
No more the smiling day shall view. 

Should many a tender tale be told, 
For many a tender thought is due. 

Why else the o'ergi'own paths of time. 
Would thus the lettered sage explore, 

With pain these crumbling ruins climb. 
And on the doubtful sculpture pore ? 

\Vhy seeks he with unwearied toil. 

Thro' Death's dim walks to urge his way. 

Reclaim his long asserted spoil. 
And lead Oblivion into day ? 

'Tis Nature prompts by toil or fear, 

Unmov'd to range thro' Death's domain ; 

The tender parent loves to hear 

Her children's story told again ! langhorne. 



THE SEASONS. 



SPRING. 



WHEN, approach'd by the fair dewy fingers of Spring, 
Swelling buds open first and look gay ; 

When the birds on the boughs by their mates sit and sing, 
And are rock'd by the breeze on each spray : 

When gently descending, the rain in soft showers, 
With its moisture refreshes the ground ; 

And the drops, as they hang on the plants and theflowerSi 
Like rich gems beam a lustre around ; 

When the wood-pigeons sit in the branches and coc, 
And the cuckoo proclaims with his voice. 

That Nature marks this for the season to woo. 
And for all that can love to rejoice : 



'CLASSICAL -ENGLISH POETRY. lOQ 

In a cottage by night may I pass the soft time/" 
In the fields and the meadows all day ; t 

With the wife of m.y heart, whose charms in their prime. 
Depict her as blooming as May ! 

When the lark with shrill notes sings aloft in the mom. 

May my fairest and I sweetly wake ; 
View the far distant hills, which the sun-beams adorn^ 

Then arise, and our cottage forsake. 

When the sun shines so warm that my charmer and I 

May recline on the turf without fear, 
Let us there all vain thoughts and ambition defy. 

While we breathe the first sweets of the year. 

While the dove sits lamenting the loss of its mate. 
Which the fowler has caught in his snares ; 

May we think ourselves bless'd that it is not our fate 
To endure such an absence as theirs. 

May I listen to all her soft, tender, sweet notes. 
When she sings and no sounds interfere. 

But the warbling of birds, which, in stretching their 
Are at strife to be louder than her. Qthroats^ 

W^hen the daisies, and cowslips, and primroses blow. 

And cheq^uer the meads and the lawns. 
May we see bounding there the swift light-footed doe. 

And pursue with our eye the young fawns. 

When the lapwings, just fledg'd, o'er the turf take their 
And the firstlings are all at their play ; D^'-^^y 

And the harmless young lambs skip about in the sun. 
Let us then be as frolic as they. 

When I talk of my love, should I cliance to espy 

That she seems to mistrust what i say. 
By a tear that is ready to fall from her eye. 

With my lips let me wipe it away. 

When evenings grow cool, and the flow'rs hang their 
With the dev/, then no longer we'll roam; [[heads 

With my arm round her waist, in a path thro' the meads, 
Let us hasten to find our waj'- home. brerev»'ood. 



SUMMER. 

WHERE the sun cannot pierce, in a grove of tall trees. 

With my fair one, as lovely as May, 
Undisturb'd by all sound, but the sighs of a breeze. 

Let me pass the hot noon of the day. 



110 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

When the sun, less intense, to the westward inclines. 
For the meadows the groves we'll forsake. 

And see the rays dance as inverted he shines. 
On the face of some river or lake : 

Where my fairest and I, on its verge as we pass, 
(For 'tis she that must still be my theme) 

Our two shadows may view on the watery glass. 
While the fish are at play in the stream. 

May the herds cease to low, and the lambkins to bleat. 
When she sings me some amorous strain ; 

All be silent and hush'd, unless echo repeat 
The kind words and sweet sounds back again. 

And when we return to our cottage at night. 
Hand in hand as v/e sauntering stray. 

Let the moon's silver beams thro' the leaves give us light- 
Just direct us, and chequer our v/ay. 

Let the nightingale warble its notes in our walk. 

As thus gently and slowly we move ; 
And let no single thought be express'd in our talk. 

But of friendship improv'd into love. 

Thus enchanted each day with these rural delights. 

And secure from Ambition's alarms. 
Soft love and repose shall divide all our nights. 

And each morning shall rise with new charms. 

BREREWOOD. 



THO' the seasons must alter, ah ! yet let me find. 

What all must confess to be rare, 
A female still cheerful, and faithful, and kind. 

The blessings of Autumn to share. 

Let one side of her cottage, a flourishing vine 
Overspread with its branches and shade : 

Whose clusters appear more transparent and fiiie^ 
As its leaves are beginning to fade. 

When the fruit makes the branches bend down with its 
In our orchai-d surrounded with pales ; poacf; 

In a bed of clean straw let oiu- apples be stow'd, : :' ' 
For a tart that in winter regales. '''^""^ • 



CLASSIGAL ENGLISH POETRY. Ill 

When the vapours that rise from the earth in the mom. 

Seem to hang on its surface like smoke. 
Till dispersed by the sun that gilds over the corn. 

Within doors let us prattle and joke. 

But when we see clear all the hues of the leaves. 
And at work in the fields are all hands ; 

Some in reaping the wheat, others binding the sheaves. 
Let us carelessly stroll o'er the lands. 

And now when the husbandman sings harvest-home, 

And the corn's all got into the house ; 
When the long-wish'd-for time of their meeting is come;^ : 

To frolic, and feast, and carouse ; 

When the leaves from the trees are began to be shed. 

And are leaving the branches all bare ; 
Either strew'd at the roots, shrivell'd, wither'd, and dead. 

Or else blown to and fro in the air : 

Let's enjoy ail the pleasure retirement affords, 

Still amus'd with our innocent sports ; 
Nor once envy the pomp of fine ladies and lords. 

With their grand entertainments in courts. 

In the eve to our cottage, well-pleas'd, let's repair. 

And our mutual endearments revive ; 
While our looks, and our words, and our actions, declare 

How contented and happy we live. 

Should ideas arise that may ruffle the soul. 

Let soft music the phantoms remove ; 
For 'tis harmony only has force to controul. 

And unite all the passions in love, brerewoop. 



WINTER. 



WHEN the trees are all bare, not a leaf to be seen. 

And the meadows their beauty have lost ; 
When Nature's disrob'd of her mantle of green. 

And the streams are fast bound with the frost : 

While the peasant inactive stands shiv'ring with cold. 

As bleak the winds northerly blow ; 
And toe innocent flocks run for warmth to the fold, 

With their fleeces besprinkled with snow : 



112 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

In the yard, when the cattle are fodder'd with stmir| 
And they send forth their breath in a stream * i 

And the neat-looking dairy-maid sees she must thaw^ 
Flakes of ice that she finds in the cream : 

When the sweet country-maiden, as fresh as a rose. 

As she carelessly trips often slides. 
And the rustics laugh loud, if, by falling, she shov/s 

All the charms that her modesty hides : 

When the lads and the lasses for company join'd. 

In a crowd round the embers are met. 
Talk of fairies, and v/itches, that ride on the wind. 

And of ghosts, till they're all in a sweat : 

Heaven- grant in this season, it may be my lot, 
With the nymph whom I love and admire ; 

While the icicles hang from the eaves of my cot, 
I may thither in safety retire ! 

"WTiere in neatness and quiet, and free from surprise. 
We may live, and no hardships endure ; 

Nor feel any turbulent passions arise, 

But such as each other may cure I ererewood. 



YOUTH ENTERING ON THE WORLD. 

OFT have I seen when musing on the shore, 

Unskilful infants grasp th' unwieldy oar. 

Push the frail bark into t-he swelling main. 

Borne by the rapid tide, pant to regain 

The less'ning land, and, shrieking, weep too late 

The gaping horrors of tempestuous fate ! 

True pictm'e of our unsuspecting age. 

Who long to stretch where fatal billows rage : 

'Gainst our ov/n heaven like angels v*'e rebel. 

And quit the realms where during raptures dwell ; 

Pant for a wing to range the World around, — 

The World — how swoons my soul to hear the sound ; 

The World., where Pleasure flies the grasping hand. 

And Hope builds palaces on shifting sand : 

Where Treachery talks with sweetly melting flow. 

Of horrid words that turn to gall and woe : 

Confederacies of profit or of vice. 

Where Friendship's only firm as faithless ice : 



CLASSICAL SNGLiSII ?GSTR¥. US 

When potent Avarice cast a golden ray. 

Dissolves its brittle mass and floats away : 

Fix'd in the breast where pride or inf rest thrives, .., 

And Love, a secondary passion, lives ; j 

Where children cherish'd, by AfFection'a ray, 

Long in the dust the partial sire to lay : 

Tho' daily fondness beams the constant smile. 

And only wisely keeps its own awhile: ,'''"' 

Here Obligation e'en beneath the wing, ^ 

That hatches it to life will fix a sting • i\%" 

Here Worth is trampled down by mounted Pride, i 

And Modesty by Av'rice p.ush'd aside. ' /? 

Such slow discernment guides the stupid crowd,,, ^\, 

That Impudence for Talent is allow'd : ^^-^ ^^^„ 

In Life's true masquerade fools are so blind, ^ ' '' '" ' 

That half a thin disguise will cheat mankind : 

Here Ostentation weak expedients tries. 

To lead from happiness our wand'ring eyes : 

Thou wouldst do good — but be thou pure as snow, 

With every kindness let thy bosom glow : 

Detraction's pois'nous breath thy fame shall blot, 

Or Envy's microscope pry out a spot I 

Has then this sickly world no cordial balm ? 

This storm of passion no delightful calm? 

Yet as the traveller 'mid dreary wastes 

Here meets a flower — there a fountain tastes^ — 

As stars that aid the gloom of during night. 

So scatter'd worth diffuses partial light ; 

O'er all our ills a self-born radiance sheds. 

More bright like phosphorus as darkness spreads. 

Let potent Wisdom smooth the wrinkled brow. 

And sweet Complacence soften all below. 

See in each rising Sun new comfort giv'n. 

And when it sets behold a nearer Heav'n ! 

The few rare gems of Friendship here improve, 

As fading emblems of Eternal Love ! bidlake. 



THE VIOLET AND THE PANSY. 

SHEPHEHD, if near thy artless breast 

The god of fond desires repair j 
Implore him for a gentle guest. 



114 . CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Should Beauty's soul-enchanting smile. 
Love-kindling looks, and features gay. 

Should these thy wandering eye beguile. 
And steal thy wareless heart away ; 

That heart shall soon with sorrow swell. 
And soon the erring eye deplore. 

If in the beauteous bosom dwell 
No gentle virtue's genial store. 

Far from his hive one summer-day, 
A young and yet unpractis'd Bee, 

Borne on his tender wings away. 
Went forth the flow'ry world to see. 

The morn, the noon, in play he pass'd. 
But when the shades of evening came. 

No parent brought the due repast ; 
And faintness seiz'd his little frame. 

By Nature urg'd, by instinct led. 
The bosom of a flower he sought. 

Where streams moum'd round a mossy bed. 
And violets all the bank inwrought. 

Of kindred race, but brighter dyes. 
On that fair bank a Pansy grew. 

That borrow'd from indulgent skies, 
A velvet shade and purple hue. 

The tints that stream'd with glossy gold. 
The velvet shade, the purple hue. 

The stranger wonder'd to behold. 
And to its beauteous bosom flew. 

Not fonder haste the lover speeds, 
At evening's fall, his fair to meet. 

When o'er the hardly-bending me^ds 
Fie springs on more than mortal feet. 

Nor glows his eye with brighter glee, 
V/hen stealing near her orient breast. 

Than felt the fond enamour'd Bee, 
When first the golden bloom he prest 

Ah ! pity much his youth untried. 
His heart in Beauty's magic spell ! 

So never passion thee betide. 

But where the genial virtues dwell. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 115 

In vain he seeks those virtues there I 

No soul-sustaining charms abound; 
No honey'd sweetness^, to repair 

The languid waste of life_, is found. 

An aged Bee, whose labours led 

Thro' those fair springs, and meads of gold. 
His feeble wing, his drooping head 

Beheld, and pity'd to behold. 

" Fly, fond adventurer, fly the art 

'* That courts thine eye v/ith fair attire ; 

'' Who smiles to win the heedless heart, 
" Will smile to see that heart expire. 

" This modest flower, of humbler hue, 
" That boasts no depth of glowing dyes, 

" Array'd in unbespangled blue, 

'^ The simple clothing of the skies-— 

" This flower, with balmy sweetness blest, 

" May yet thy languid life renew:" 
He said, and to the Violet's breast 

The little vagrant fam'ly flew. langhorne. 



FLORA AND THE BOY. 

A BOY one morn into a garden stray'd. 

Which Flora had adorn'd v/ith sweetest flow'rs ; 

Roses, azalias, lilies, jpinks, display'd 

Their various charms, their fascinating pow'rs. 
The little rogue delighted, view'd the rich parterre. 

And long'd to rifle ev'ry beauty there. 

But Flora, when she saw him thus dispos'd, 

Drew near, and wisely interpos'd : 

She smiling said, "My little friend, 
" To one alone your choice must be confin'd ; 
" Look round, select one to your mind, 
" Where balmy odours with rare beauty blend." 
He quickly laid his hand upon a rose. 
Whose charms might well his little heart engage. 
When uoon the thorns his rude attack oppose. 

With indignation flr'd. 
He from the lurking enemy retir'd, 
And scornful thus express'd his idle rage: 



116 (CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

" Go wither on thy stem, thou treacherous i{ow% 
" There pine and fade neglected and forlorn ; 
*' I'll seek another rose in yonder bow'r, 
" Who, fair like thee, shall blow without one thorn." 
He ran to pluck one from the ciust'ring store. 
Each bov/'r examin'd o'er and o'er. 
As vainly search'd the garden round,— 
Alas I no rose without a thorn was to be found. 
His heart beat high with rising pride. 
That thus his wishes were deny'd 
(For he had never felt controul) ; 
At length a flood of tears reliev'd his swelling soul. 

Flora, diverted at such childish grief^ 
Yet willing to encourage him, approach'cl again : 
" My son," she said, " thy tears are vain ; 
" But take my counsel, you will find relief. 
" Courage and perseverance never £iil : 

'^ First o'er the thorns prevail, 
^^ Each difficulty you will then remove, 
*' And gain the object of your love." 
To this each little student may compare 
The hours of learning, often mix'd with care ; 
Yet while the road to knowledge is in view. 
With diligence its winding paths pursue. 
And tho' some briars on the way appear. 
Those will be conquer'd if you persevere ; 
And having well employ 'd your youthful hours. 
Reap with advantage Time's most precious flow'rs. 

__„_____„ ANON, 

THE mouse's petition. 

Foufid in a Trap, where he had been coiifined all nighL 
OH ! hear a pensive prisoner's prayer, 

For liberty that sighs • 
And never let thine heart be shut 

Against the wretch's cries. 

For here forlorn and sad I sit. 

Within the wiry grate ; 
And tremble at th' approaching morn. 

Which brings impending fate. 

If e'er thy breast with freedom glow'd, _^ ,^ 

And spurn'd a tyrant's chain, :^''f J- f"'' 

Let not thy strong oppressive force '^^' 
A free-born Mouse detain. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POEl ft V. 11? 

O ! do not stain with guikless blood. 

Thy hospitable hearth ; 
Nor triumph that thy wiles betray 'J 

A prize so little worth. 

The scatter'cl g]ea.mrigs of a feast 

My frugal meals supply ; 
But if thine unrelenting heart 

That slender boon deny. 

The cheerful light, the vital air. 

Are blessings widely giv'n ; 
Let Nature's commoners enjoy 

The common gifts of Heav'n. 

The well- taught philosophic mind 

To all compassion gives ; 
Casts round the world an equal eye. 

And feels for all that lives. 

If mind, as ancient sages taught, 

A never-dying flame. 
Still shifts thro' matters varying forms. 

In every form the same : 

Beware, lest in the worm you crush, 

A brother's soul you find ; 
And tremble, lest thy luckless hand 

Dislodge a kindred mind. 

Or, if this transient gleam of day- 
Be all of life we share ; 

Let pity plead within thy breast. 
That little all to spare. 

So may thy hospitable board 

With health and peace be c^wn'd; 
And every charm of heart-felt ease. 

Beneath thy roof be found. 

So, w^hen Destruction lurks unseen. 

Which men like mice may share ; 
May some kind angel clear thy path. 

And break the hidden snare. barbauld. 



TO A FRIEND IN AFFLICTION. 

AH, me ! what pangs a tender heart must feel ! 

Such is the wayward fate of all below ; 
We joy and sorrow oft in others' weal. 

And best affections prove a source of woe. 



118 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

To Friendship's pow'r I've long resign'd my soul. 
And fan cy'd happiness her reign must prove; 

The ills of life I thought she' would controul. 
And peaceand rest would flow from purest love. 

Alas! *twas mortal, what I'd fancy'd more; 

And ills will mix in scenes beneath the sky : 
Friendship soon prov'd the ideal bliss was o'er ; 

That pains were doubled by the tender tie. 

Friendship, how strange thy sympathetic pow'r ! 

Thy magic influence spreads thro' all my mind ; 
I doat on pain, indulge the mournful hour. 

When Friendship calls, nor think her task unkind. 

Nay, more — how oft I've left the mournful scene, 
'The scene where Joy and Laughter seem'd to reign ; 

And stole with Friendship to the calm serene. 
The converse of the heart— -how great the gain ! 

When my Maria meets me, gentle maid, 

And tells the artless story of her woe ; 
My bosom meets her sighs, her griefs would aid. 

And tear for tear from Sympathy will flow ! 

Might but the heart-felt tenderness I bear. 

Soothe the keen anguish of her aching breast ; 

With joy I would indulge th' endearing care. 
And live to hush her sorrows into rest. 

My dear Maria ! can thy heart enjoy 

A sense of aught that Friendship can bestow ! 

Or does thy wretchedness all sense destroy. 
But that which only serves to swell thy woe ? 

Yet such, my love, to thee, the tie so strong, 
I still would strive to ease thy soul's distress ; 

Nor could pale Misery paint the season long. 
That in the end shall bring thy mind redress. 

Sometimes I've seen a transient gleam of joy, 
Transfus'd thro' all thy features to a smile : 

Indulge the ray, nor be to Friendship coy : 
Her kindly influence may thy woes beguile. 

With lib'ral hand thy mind by Heav'n is stor'd, 
Each dear affection in thy heart hath place : 

For gifts like these, be gracious Heav'n ador'd. 
And glowing gratitude express the grace ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 119 

These, too, will bid thy tortur'd breast be still, 
And calm thy troubled passions into rest: 

Will lead to acquiesce in th' Almighty's will, 
And see that all his ways are right, and best. 

COLLIER. 



PIOUS MEMORY. 

Occasioned by seeing the Graves dressed with Flowers, 
at Brecknockj in Wales. 
« WHITHER away, fair maid ?" I cry'd. 

As on old Hundy's bank I lay ; 
When, passing by me, I espy'd 
A modest maid in neat array. 

Upon her red, but well-turn'd arm, 

A little wicker-basket hung ; 
With flow'rs of various hues replete. 

And branches ever green and young. 

The fragrant bay, the mournful yew. 
The cypress, and the box, were there ; 

The daisy py'd, the violet blue. 

The red pink, and the primrose fair. 

" And why that basket on your arm, 

" With all those fragrant sweets supply'd ?"* 

With blushing look, and pensive air, 
And voice of meekness soft, she sigh'd : 

" To yonder church-yard do I haste, 

" To dress the grave where Henry sleeps ; 

" No maid a truer lover bless'd, 

" No maid more faithful lover weeps. 

" Stern Death forbade us to unite, 

^' And cut him down with ruthless blow ; 

" And now I speed to deck his grave, 
" As 'tis our weekly wont to do." 

The melancholy custom pleas'd. 

She left me wrapp'd in pensive thought ; 

Ideas sad, but soothing, rose, 

Wlien ray slow steps the church-yard sought. 

There, kneeling o'er her Henry's grave, 
Adorn'd with all her basket's store. 

The rural maiden, sighing, hung, 
Her eyes with tender tears ran o'er. 



120 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

She rais'd those eyes so fuii of tears, . § 

Which now and then stole dov/n her cheek,:;; 

And much to Heav'n she would have spoke. 
But sorrow would not let her speak. 

Yet, tho* her thoughts could find no vent. 
There is who reads each honest mind : 

And the true heart to him devote. 
Shall ample satisfaction find. 

Then, gentle maiden ! do not fear. 
Again thy Henry thou shalt meet ; 

Till then tliy tender task pursue, 

And strew thy greens and flowers so sweet. 

And you whom all around I see, 

The same dear mournful task employ ; 

Ye parents, children, husbands, wives, 
The melancholy bliss enjoy ! 

Oh ! 'tis delicious to maintain 

Of friends deceas'd a due respect ! 
Then bring me flov/rels, bring me greens, 

Straight shall my parents' grave be deck'd : 

And many a friend's (whom faithful love 
Still keeps alive within my breast) 

Luxuriously sad, I'll see 

With choicest garlands weekly dress'd. 

Come, then, the wicker-basket bring ; 

Come, Memory, and with me go I 
Each lovely flower that breathes the spring, 

Affection's gentle hand shall strew : 

A mellow tear of soothing woe 

Shall o'er the graves spontaneous fall : 

While Heav'n the heart's still wish shall hear. 
And to each other grant us alL oode. 



THE INDIAN PHILOSOPHERS. 

" WHY should our joys transform to pain 
." Why gentle Hymen's silken chain 

" A plague of iron prove ? 
'' Good gods 1 'tis strange, the chain that binds 
" Millions of hands, should leave their minds 

" At such a loose from love !" 



CLASSlCAi: ENGLISH POETRY. 121 

In vain I sought the wond'rous cause ; • ; - - 

Searched the wide fields of Nature's lav/s, ; ^ 

And urg'd the schools in vain : '^^■^^' 

Till deep in thought, within ray breast ^^ 

My soul retir'd, and slumber dress'd :?«Y 

A bright instructive scene. 

O'er the wide land, and cross the tide. 
On Fancy's airy wing I ride ; 

Sweet rapture of the mind I 
Till on the banks of Ganges' flood. 
In a tall ancient grove I stood ; 

For sacred use design'd. 

Hard by, a venerable priest, 

Ris'n with his god, the sun, from rest. 

Began his morning song : 
Thrice he conjur'd the murm'ruig stream ! 
The birth of souls was all his theme. 

And half divine his tongue. 

He sang the eternal roiling flame ; 
That vital mass that's still the same. 

Does all our minds compose : 
Whence shap'd in twice ten thousand frames*^ 
Whence differing souls of different names 

And different passions rose. 

" The mighty Pow'r that form'd the mind, 
" One mould for every two design'd ; 

" Then blest the new-born pair : 
" This be a match for this," he said : 
" Then down he sent the souls he made, 

" To seek them bodies here. 

" But parting from their warm abodes, 
" They lost their fellows on the roads, 

" And never join'd their hands : 
" O cruel chance, and crossing fates ! 
" Our eastern souls have lost their mates 

"On Europe's barbarous lands." 

Thus sang the wond'rous Indian Bard : 
My list'ning ear attentive heard, 

Whilst Ganges ceas'd to flow ; 
" Sure then, (said I) could I but see 
" The gentle nymph that twin'd with me, 

" 1 might be happy too !" 

G 



222 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Some courteous angel tell me where. 
What distant lands the unknown fair, 

Or distant seas detain ; 
Swift as the wheel of Nature rolls, 
I'd fly to meet and mingle souls. 

And wear the joyful chain. watts. 



NOSEGAY OF AVILD FLOWERS. 

FAIR rising from her icy couch 

Wan herald of the floral yeai% 
The Snow-drop marks the spring's approach. 

Ere yet the Primrose groups appear, 
Or peers the Aurun (1) from its spotted veil. 
Or odorous Violets scent the cold capricious gale. 

Then thickly strewn in woodland bowers, 

Anemonies their stars unfold. 
There spring the Sori'el's veined flowers, 

And rich in vegetable gold. 
From calyx pale, the freclded Cowslip bom. 
Receives in amber cups the fragrant dews of mom. 

Lo ! the green Thorn, her silver buds 

Expands to May's enliv'ning beam ; 
Hottonia (2) blushes on the floods. 

And where the slowly trickling stream. 
Mid grass and spiry rushes stealing glides 
Her lovely fringed flowers fair Menyanthus (3) hides. 

In the lone copse, or shadowy dale. 

Wild cluster'd knots of Harebells blow. 

And droops the Lily of the Vale, 

O'er Vinca's (4) matted leaves below. 

The Orchis race with vary'd beauty charm. 

And mock the exploring bee or fly's aerial form. 

Wound in the hedge-row's oaken boughs. 

The Woodbine's tassels float in air, 
And blushing, the uncultur'd Rose 

Hangs high her beauteous blossoms there; ^ 

Her fillets there the purple Nightshade weaves,^ ._^ 
And the Brionia winds her pale and scollop'd leaves. 

(i) CucLoo Pint, Ci) Water Violet. <8) LogbesD. 

(4) Peri w 'Okie. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 123 

To later Summer's fragrant breath ; 

Clemati's (5) feathery garlands dance ; 
The hollow Foxglove nods beneath^ 

While to tall Mullein's yellow glance. 
Dear to the mealy tribe of ev'ning towers. 
And the weak Gallium (5) weaves its myriad fairy flowers. 

Sheltering the coot's or wild-duck's nest. 

And where the timid halcyon hides. 
The Willow-herb in crimson drest. 

Waves with Arundo o'er the tides. 
And there the bright Nymphea (7) loves to lave. 
Or spreads her golden orbs upon the dimpling wave. 

And thou, by pain and sorrow blest, 

Papaver ! (8) that an opiate dew, 
Conceal'st beneath thy scarlet vest. 

Contrasting with the Corn-flower blue. 
Autumnal months behold thy gauzy leaves 
Bend in the rustling gale amid the tawny sheaves. 

From the first bud, whose venturous head 
The Winter's lingering tempest braves. 

To those which mid the foliage dead. 
Sink latest to their annual grave. 

All are for health, ox food, or pleasure given. 

And speak in various ways the bounteous hand of Heaven . 

CHARLOTTE SMITH. 

(6) Virgin's bower. (e) Yellow Lady's Bed-straw. 

(7) White Water Lily. (&•; Common Poppy. 



THE BARDS OF BRITAIN. 
ADDRESSED TO SIR RICHARD PHILLIPS, 

On presenting the Author with a Collection of Poetry. 

FRIEND of th' advent'rous poet's infant muse. 
Receive this tribute, nor the lay refuse ; 
Thy gift invests me with a godlike band, 
The boast, the glory of my native land ! 

Dear, doubly dear, the precious treasures giv'n ; 
Dear as the ruddy beam of light from Heav'n : 
Unsullied treasures! — with no dross combin'd. 
Unsullied treasures of th' immortal Mind ! 

G2 



124- CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Long sigh'd-for volumes, stor'cl with truths divine, vj 
And Fancy's richest flowers— ye all are mine ! 

Though adverse fortune on my youth has frown'd. 
And faithless friends inflicted many a wound, 
Unnotic'd long : though oft, with grief sincere, 
I heav'd the sigh and dropt the anguish'd tear ; 
Yet Hope, at length, has built her downy nest. 
Oh! blessed change! within this throbbing breast: 
This breast, where late the raven of Despair ■ ^ 

Sat brooding on the thorns of with'ring Care. 
Kind Heaven ! all-bounteous ! gives a Friend to save ; 
I seem re-born, or rescu'd from the grave ! 
And, in the precious boon which Phillips sends. 
My raptur'd heart receives a host of fi-iends ! 
Friends, who will soothe me in Misfortune's gloom. 
And, to the Muses' Court, convert my narrow room. 

Methinks, e'en now I see the mighty train 
Encircle me around ; and each, alternate. 
Accept, with smiles, my homage. In the midst. 
With deathless laurel blooming round thy brows. 
My gaze is bent on thee, immortal youth ! 
On thee, whom most I pity, love, admire 1 
The beams of gladness sparkle in thine eyes. 
Which, on the portrait of my fost'ring bard. 
Seem steadfast riveted ;— and sure I hear 
Thy voice exclaim 

[^CHATTERTON.]] 

Happie itte bie for thie: 
Reet mycle comforte wele betide thine houres ! 
Synne, frae the mokie denne obscuritye. 
Whilom, lyke myne, thie ruthful thornye bedde, 
An helpen hannde hes gethered thie flowres, 
Whiik growen by the sun uncheryshed, 
Ande them haes setten, vv^here hys beem devyne 
May keepe them frae a ¥/alpole's scowljdng eyne. 

Ill-fated bard ! I mourn thy hapless fall ; 
But, as a sky-harp'd seraph, now I hail 
Thy form divine! and, with exultance proud. 
What thou hast left to this ungrateful world, 
Pronounce as mine ! 

TO MILTON. 

Oh ! Heav'n illumin'd bard ? 
Whose wing seraphic soar'd above all height. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 125 

In majesty of song, forgive ! forgive ! 

That ray rash hand should dare, upon thy throne. 

Thy starry throne ! to place a hapless youth. 

Though proudly favoured by the weeping Nine, 

Thy great superior alone in sorrow I 

Mournful pre-eminence 1 Yes, thou wilt pardon : — 

And Milton's tear, on Chatterton's pale urn. 

Shall drop, like balm, from weeping cherub's eye I 

Oh ! how thy awful daring I revere ; 

Thou, through the gloom of Chaos and old Night, 

Despotic rulers o'er the drear profound, 

Travers'd, with steadfast soul, the pathless way ; 

Thou, from the Stygian pool, on Hierarch's wing, 

Soar'd dreadfully sublime ; and 'yond the st^s. 

Where human eye had never dar'd to look, 

Explor'd the regions of eternal day. 

And on Heav'n's pearly pavement fearless trod ! 

With reverential awe, my trembling hand 

Shall turn, at midnight's hour, thy volumes o'er ; 

Mount, on the wings of Fancy, by thy side ; 

Visit the liquid deeps of hell below ; 

Then, rising on the pinion of the mind. 

To Heav'n's extremest verge shall rapt ascend ; 

'Till, for a moment, I forget myself — 

Forget I sprang from dust, and am a worm ! 

TO DRYDEN. 

Dryden too, appears. 
To charm my wond'ring ears ! 
See, see, he rises in a car of state ! 
His Heav'n-train'd steeds proclaim 
His never-dying fame ! 
The reins upheld with daring hand ; 
He guides them o'er the rugged mountain's brow. 
Around whose base the limpid waters flow. 
Hark I hark ! his thund'ring wheels resound 
Through ether's concave wide ! 
His coursers feel the biting lash, . 
The swift revolving axles flash. 
He spurns the trembling ground : 
See, checking now with fierce command 
Their dread career, in fullest pride. 
He mounts, on cherub- wing, magnificently great ! 

G3 



136 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

TO POPE. ^^ i^^^J' 

With piercing eye, deep vers'd in Nature's'lol-e, 
Resolv'd the realms of reason to explore ; 
The paths of science, the retreats of sense. 
And justify the ways of Providence. 

Pope next I see, the bard, whose various fire 
Attunes the haliow'd or the tender lyre ; 
Tears off the fraudful mask that screens the mind. 
And awes the varying folhes of mankind : 
Instructs the serious, and delights the gaj/, 
Shows Fame's proud fane, and leads himself the way I 

TO YOUNG. 

With coffin'd shrouds surrounded, big with thought. 
With painful thought, which moves, yet mends the heart 
And swells to aw'd solemnity, see. Young 
Deigns, too, to dwell beneath my humble roof! 
The reliques of the dead, with full-fix'd eye. 
Denoting deep reflection, he survej^s. 
And smiles at '< weak mortality !" Absorb'd 
In contemplation, on the jarring world 
He looks indignant. Cross the shoreless tide 
Of full eternity his steadfast gaze 
Is fix'd ; nor once returns, save that he casts 
One look of pity on disastrous man ! 

TO THOMSON. 

And Thomson, Nature's limner ! ihou art mine! 
Thou, who hast painted the all-blessed year. 
Bringing the seasons full within my view. 
E'en, when sequester'd in this nook I sit ; 
The fiov/'ry dale, the steep aspiring hill. 
The velvet bank, the desolated waste. 
The pebbled streamlet, and the roaring flood, — 
Spring's tender fragrance, — Summer's noon- tide blaze, — 
Autumnal breezes, — Winter's icy blasts, — 
In all their sweet diversity of change ! 

TO COLLINS. 

And Collins, too. 
To thee I bow. 
Bright Fancy'sjavour'de child. 
Who, in the desolated wild, 
Witii all the varied sweets of song, 
Pour'd forth the strain. 
As o'er the plain. 
Fleet echo did thy swelling notes prolong ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 1^7r 

And, when the Passions fir'd thy breast. 
Upon some rocky steep. 
Which fearful overhung the deep. 
Thou, with the phrenzy of poetic fire, , ,^ 

Drew'st all the Furies round thy magic lyre; ,, y; 
And, 'mid the hideous yell y 

Of grisly spectres, fell ! ..^jK, 

Eevenge ! Despair ! 
And haggard Care ! 
With harp in hand. 
Didst take thy stand, 
$^ow made them frantic rave, now lull'd them all to rest 

TO SHENSTONE. 

And late from. the blade- waving mead, 
Enamell'd with Spring's vernal flowers. 

The murmurs of Corydon's reed 

Were plaintively heard from the bowers. 

Around him the frolicsome lambs. 

In wantonness frisk'd to the note ; 
While wistfully gaz'd the fond dams. 

Who seem'd on the younglings to doat. 

As centinel laid at his feet. 

Poor Tray watch'd the flock on the plain ; 
And, pour'd from the thicket's retreat. 

Was heard the mellifluous strain. 

Suspended, his crook, on the tree. 

Hung ready his hand to receive ; 
The ballad was plac'd on his knee. 

Which taught his fond bosom to heave. 

But, broken is Corydon's reed. 

Ah ! ne'er shall we hear it again ! 
No longer his lambkins to feed, 

The shepherd shall traverse the plain. 

But, though he to death is consign'd. 

And no more the lov'd bard shall we see , 

His song in a wreath is entwin'd. 

And that wreath forms a garland for me ! 

TO GRAY. 

Next, see ethereal Gray, 
Whose daring fancy took her flig]it. 
On eagle-wing, to huge Plinlimmon's height, 

' ^ ' G 4 



128 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, 

And as above her snow-capt brow she soar'd. 
The fall of Cambria's children dear! t j^d^"^ alH 
The heavenly maid in wild dism&ff^^ X^^'^^ 
With Hoel's harp deplor'd, lli-^BiiT 

While from her eyelids gush'd the soul-assiiaging tear ! 

And oft, when Caution penn'd the guarded fold. 
Wrapt in his strain I took my lonely way. 

And listen'd pensive as his '' curfew toll'd" 
The dreary knell of the departed day I 

With ling'ring step, at midnight's awful noon, 
I sought the death-bed of the laboring hind; 

Explored with him the spot with grass o'ergrown, 
And the rude stone which rustic skill design'd. 

Oft shall his numbers wait me to repose. 
Oft shall my bosom own their magic pow'r • 

His moral lay the hallow'd truth disclose, 
And oft beguile the solitary hour ! 

TO GOLDSMITH. 

Next hapless Auburn's friend my bosom cheers. 
Whom Nature loves, and ev'ry Muse reveres ! 
To him was giv'n the high victorious art. 
To gain a conquest o'er the human heart ; 
No party-theme his gen'rous bosom fir'd. 
Far other strains his social soul inspir'd ; 
In thy blest cause, O Virtue, he engag'd, 
xA.nd 'gainst thy foes alone fierce war he wag'd ! 
He saw Oppression seize the poor man's soil. 
And bade the tyrant quit the impious spoil ; 
With grief he saw the dome of Pow'r arise. 
With shame he heard the hapless maiden's sighs ! 
He saw the prince, encorapass'd by a train 
Of flatt'ring slaves, who spurn'd the harmless swain ; 
With weeping eye he view'd the lab'rer's lot, 
Driv'n, like an exile, from his plunder'd spot ! 
Each realm he trac'd, recording in his strains. 
That land mostbless'd — where prosper'd most its swains! 

Poet belov'd ! my vanquish'd heart is thine. 
And beats with transport thus to call thee mine ! 

TO BURNS. 

And wha is he that sings sae weel. 
And pens " Addresses to the Deil ?" 
Wha gies the sang syke bonny turns ? 
Daft Gowk ! ye ken it's sonsie Burns ! 



CLASSICAL ENSLISH POETRY. ^^ bnJ?^ 

His gabby tales I looe to hear, ; Ilsi aiil 

They please sae raeikle, run sae cleajfeji sdT 
That Uka time, good troth, I read, > sTaoH ihNT 
I'm wiser baith i' heart an head. i moit allriW 

I wad advise, when runkled care "" •^'' hnA 

Begins to mak ye glowr and stare, ' 

That ye wad first turn owr his leaf, 
'Twill mak ye soon forget your grief! 

And, should auld mokie sorrow freeten. 
His blythesome tale your hearts will leeten ; 
And sure I am, ye grief may banter. 
By looking ow^r his " Tam o' Shanter." 

And, while T breathe, whene'er I'm scant, ^-^- 
Of cheerfu friends — and find a want J 

Of something blythe to cure my glumps, 'i 

And free me frae the doleful dumps, 

ril tak his beuk, and read awhile. 

Until he mak me wear a smile ; 

And, then, if I hae time to spare, 

I'll learn his " Bonny Banks of Ayr !" blacket. 



THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM. 

THE prudent nymph, whose cheeks disclose 

The lily and the blushing rose. 

From public view her charms wiU screen. 

And rarely in the crowd be seen : 

This simple truth shall keep her wise, 

" The fairest fruits attract the flies." 

One night a glow-worm, proud and vain. 
Contemplating her glitt'ring train. 
Cried, Sure there never was in nature 
So elegant, so fine a creature. 
All other insects that I see. 
The frugal ant, industrious bee. 
Or silk- worm, with contempt I view ; 
With all that low, mechanic crew. 
Who servilely their lives employ 
In business, enemy to joy. 
Mean, vulgar herd! ye are my scom. 
For grandeur only I was born, 

G 5 



ISO CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Or sure am sprung from race divine, ■''-'■■■ ^ 
And plac'd on earth to live and shine : 
Those lights that sparkle so on high. 
Are but the glow-worms of the sky. 
And kings on earth their gems admire. 
Because they imitate my fire. 

She spoke. Attentive on a spray, 
A Nightingale forbore his lay : 
He saw the shining morsel near. 
And flew, directed by the glare : 
Awhile he gaz'd with sober look. 
And thus the trembling prey bespoke : 

Deluded fool, with pride elate, 
Know, 'tis thy beauty brings thy fate ; 
Less dazzling, long thou might'st have lain 
Unheeded on the velvet plain : 
Pride, soon or late, degraded mourns. 
And Beauty wrecks whom she adorns. moo re. 



• ODE TO YOUTH. 

YOUTH, ah stay, prolong delight. 
Close thy pinions stretch'd for flight ! 
Youth disdaining silver hairs. 
Autumn's frowns, and Winter's cares, 
Dwell'st thou but in dimple sleek. 
In vernal smiles, and Summer's cheek ? 
On Spring's ambrosial lap thy hands unfold, 
Th,ey blossom fresh with hope, and all they touch is goldC 

Graver years come sailing by : 
Hark ! they call me as they fly ; 
Quit, they cry, for nobler themes. 
Statesman, quit thy boyish dreams ! 
Tune to crowds thy pliant voice. 
Or flatter thrones, the nobler choice J 

Deserting Virtue, yet assume her state ; [^Hate ! 

Thy smiles that dwell with Love, ah, wed them now to 

Or in Victory's purple plain 
Triumph thou on hills of slain ! 
While the virgin rends her hair. 
Childless sires demand their heir : 



GLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 131 

Timid orphans kneel and weep : 
Or, Avhere the unsunn'd treasures sleep. 
Sit brooding o'er thy cave in grim repose. 
There mock at human joys, there mock at human woes. 

Years away ! too dear I prize 
Fancy's haunts, her vales, her skies ; 
Come, ye gales that swell the flowers, 
Wake my soul's expanding powers ; 
Come, by streams embower'd in wood, 
Celestial forms, the fail', the good ! 

With moral charms associate vernal joys ! 

Pure Nature's pleasure these — the rest are Fashion's toys. 

Come, while years reprove in vain. 
Youth, with me, and Rapture reign ! 
Sculpture, painting meet my eyes. 
Glowing still with young surprise ! 
Never to the virgin's lute 
This ear be deaf, this voice be mute ! 
Come, Beauty, cause of anguish, heal its smart, 
—Now temperate measures beat, unalter'd else my heart. 

Still my soul for ever young, 

Speak thyself divinely sprung ! 

Wing'd for Heaven, embracing earth, 

Link'd to all of mortal birth. 

Brute or man, in social chain 

Still link'd to all who suffer pain. 
Pursue th' eternal law !— one Power above 
Connects, pervades the whole — ^that power divine is love 

^^^^ LOVIBONr 

FRIENDSHIP. 

DISTILL'D amidst the gloom of night. 

Dark hangs the dew-drop on the thorn ; 
Till, notic'd by approaching light, 
, It glitters in the smile of morn. 

Morn soon retires, her feeble pow'r 
The sun outbeams with genial day. 

And gently, in benignant hour, 
Exhales the liquid pearl away. 

Thus on Aflliction's sable bed 

Deep sorrows rise of saddest hue ; 

Condensing round the mourner's head. 
They bathe the cheek with chilly dew. 

G6 



IS2 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Tho' Pity shows her dawn from Heaven, 
When kind she points assistance near; 

To Friendship's sun alone 'tis given 
To soothe and dry the mourner's tear. 



PENROSE. 



DEATH OF A GOOD MAK. 



-HOW a country ^ighs 



With genuine anguish when the good man dies ! 

Musing behold athwart yon blackening mead. 

In solemn march his funeral pomp proceed ; 

Pride and protector of the mournful throng. 

Sad burthen ! see him slowly mov'd along ; 

Far off the long procession's dusky hue 

Now entering at the church-yard gate I view. 

And now, while its new guest looks down from Heav'n I 

Falls the full tear, and dust to dust is giv'n ! 

From hearts his bounty eas'd what sorrows rise ! 

That last shriek was his passport to the skies 1 

Kind courteous Spirit, affably benign. 

Round thy glad front serenest glories shine. 

On everlasting archives are anneal'd 

These deeds thy virtuous diffidence conceal'd, 

Nor shall thy gen'rous mem'ry fade on earth. 

Theme of the summer seat and evening hearth ; 

Primrose and pansy, bath'd in pearly dew. 

On thy green sod ethereal fingers strew. 

And pilgrim Piety's ambrosial wreath. 

Entwines the desolating scythe of Death ! dermody. 



ON HEARING MUSIC. 

YON organ ! hark ! how soft, how sweet. 
The warbling notes in concert meet ! 

The sound my fancy leads 
To climes where Phoebus' brightest beams 
Gild jasmine groves, and crystal streams. 

And lily-mantled meads ; 

Where myrtle bowers their bloom unfold. 
Where citrons bend with fruit of gold. 

Where grapes depress the vines ; 
Where, on the bank with roses gay^ 
Love, Innocence, and Pleasure play. 

And Beauty's form reclines. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 133 

Now, different tones and measures flow, iC 
And gravely deep, and sadly slow. 

Involve the mind in gloom ; 
I seem to join the mournful train. 
Attendant round the couch of Pain, 
Or leaning o'er the tomb : 

To where the orphan'd infant sleeps. 
To where the love-lorn damsel weeps, 

I pitying seem to stray ; 
Methinks I watch his cradle near, 
Methinks her drooping thought I cheer. 
And wipe her tears away. 

Now loud the tuneful thunders roll. 
And rouse and elevate the soul 

O'er earth and aU its care ; 
I seem to hear from heavenly plains 
Angelic choirs' responsive strains 

And in their raptures share. scott. 



CARE AND GENEROSITY. 

OLD Care, with industry and art. 
At length so well had play'd his part. 
He heap'd up such an ample store, 
That Av'rice could not sigh for more : 
Ten thousand flocks his shepherd told. 
His coffers overflow'd with gold ; 
The land all round him was his own. 
With corn his crowded granaries groan. 
In short, so vast his charge and gain. 
That to possess them was a pain : 
With happiness oppress'd he lies. 
And much too prudent to be wise. 
Near him there liv'd a beauteous maid. 
With all the charms of youth array'd ; 
Good, amiable, sincere, and free ; 
Her name was Generosity, 
'Twas her's the largess to bestow 
On rich and poor, on friend and foe. 
Her doors to all were open'd wide. 
The pilgrim there might safe abide : 
For th' hungry and the thirsty crew. 
The bread she broke, the drink she drew ; 



134 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

There Sickness laid her aching head, 

And there Disti'ess could find a bed. 

Each hour, with an all-bounteous hand, 

Diffus'd the blessings round the land : 

Her gifts and glorj^ lasted long, 

And numerous was th' accepting throng. 

At length pale Penury seiz'd the dame, 

And Fortune fled, and Ruin came ; 

She found her riches at an end. 

And that she had not made one friend. 

All curs'd her for not giving more, 

Nor thought on what she'd done before : 

She wept, she rav'd, she tore her hair. 

When, lo ! to comfort her, came Care ; 

And cry'd. My dear, if you will join 

Your hand in nuptial bonds with mine. 

All will be well — you shall have store. 

And I be plagu'd with wealth no more. 

Tho' I restrain your bounteous art. 

You still shall act the generous part. 

The bridal came, great was the feast. 

And good the pudding and the priest. 

The bride in nine moons brought him forth 

A little maid of matchless worth : 

Her face was mix'd with care and glee ; 

They christen'd her Economy : 

And styl'd her fair Discretion's Queen, 

The mistress of the golden mean. 

Now Generosity confin'd. 

Perfectly easy in her mind. 

Still loves to give, yet knows to spare, 

Nor wishes to be free from Care. smart. 



THE SLAVE. 

WIDE over the tremulous sea, 

The moon spread her mantle of light ; 

And the gale, gently dying away, 
Breath'd soft on the bosom of Night. 

On the forecastle Maratan stood. 

And pour'd forth his sorrowful tale ; 

His tears fell unseen in the flood. 
His sighs pass'd unheard in the gale. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POKTKY. iSi 

" Ah, wretch!" in wild anguish, he cry'd, 

" From country and liberty torn ; 
" Ah, Maratan, would thou hadst died, 

^^ Ere o'er the salt waves thou wert borne. 

" Thro' the- groves of Angola I stray'd, 

" Love and Hope made my bosom their home, 

" There I talk'd with my favourite maid, 
" Nor dreamt of the sorrow to come. 

" From the thicket the man-hunter sprung, 
" My cries echoed loud thro' the air ; 

" There was fury ^iid wrath on his tongue, 
" He was deaf to the voice of Despair. 

^' Accurs'd be the merciless band, 

'' That his love could from Maratan tear ; 

" And blasted this impotent hand, 
" That sever'd from all I held dear. 

" Flow, ye tears, down my cheeks ever flow, 
'' Still let sleep from my eye-lids depait ; 

^^ And still may the arrows of woe 

" Drink deep of the stream of my heait. 

"But hark ! o'er the silence of night 

" My Adila's accents I hear ; 
" And mournful, beneath the wan light, 

" I see her lov'd image appear. 

" Slow o'er the smooth ocean she glides, 
- " As the mist that hangs light on the wave ; 
" And fondly her lover she chides, 
'' Who lingers so long from his grave. 

" Oh, Maratan ! haste thee," she cries, 
" Here the reign of Oppression is o'er ; 

" The tyrant is robb'd of his prize, 
" And Adila sorrows no more. 

" Now sinking amidst the dim ray, 
" Her form seems to fade on my viev/ : 

*' O ! stay thee, my Adila stay, 
'' She beckons, and I must pursue. 

" To morrow the white man in vain, 
" Shall proudly account me his Slave : 

" My shackles I plunge in the main, 
'' And rush to the realms of the brave !" 



136 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

FOR THE DOOR OF A STtTliY. 

O THOU that shalt presume to tread 

This mansion of the mighty dead. 

Come with the free, untainted mind ; 

The nurse, the pedant, leave behind ; 

And all that superstition, fraught 

With Folly's love, thy youth has taught— 

Each thought that Reason can't retain— 

Leave it, and learn to think again. 

Yet, while thy studious eye explore. 

And range these various volumes o'er. 

Trust blindly to no fav'rite pen. 

Remembering authors are but men, 

Has fair Philosophy thy love ? 

Away ! she lives in yonder grove. 

If the sweet muse thy pleasure gives, 

With her in yonder grove, she lives: 

And if Religion claims thy care. 

Religion, fled from books, is there. 

For first from Nature's works we drew 

Our knowledge, and our virtue too. langhorne. 



SPRING. 



STERN Winter now, by Spring refresh'd. 
Forbears the long continu'd strife ; 

And Nature on her naked breast. 
Delights to catch the gales of life. 

Now o'er the rural kingdom roves 

Soft Pleasure, with her laughing train ; 

Love warbles in the vocal groves. 
And Vegetation plants the plain. 

Unhappy ! whom to beds of pain. 

Arthritic tyranny consigns ; 
Whom smiling Nature courts in vain, 

Tho' Rapture sings, and Beauty shines. 

Yet tho' my limbs Disease invades, ... ^^.^j-] 
Her wings Imagination tries, ;? stedW 

And bears me to the peaceful shades 
Where 's humble turrets rise. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 1^7 

Here stop, my soul, thy rapid flight. 
Nor from the pleasing groves depart. 

Where first great Nature charm'd my sight. 
Where Wisdom first inform'd my heart. 

Here let me thro' the vales pursue 

A g'uide, a, father, and a friend ; 
Once more great Nature's works renew. 

Once more on Wisdom's voice attend. 

From false caresses, causeless strife. 
Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd ; 

Here let me learn the use of life. 

When best enjoy'd — when most improv'd. 

Teach rae, thou venerable bower. 

Cool Meditation's quiet seat. 
The generous scorn of venal power, 

The silent grandeur of retreat. 

When pride by guilt to greatness climbs. 

Or raging factions rush to war, 
Here let me learn to shun the crimes 

I can't prevent, and will not share. 

But lest I fall by subtler foes. 

Bright Wisdom ! teach rae Curio's ai*t. 

The swelling passions to compose. 
And quell the rebels of the heart. johnson. 



MIDSUMMER. 

O PHCEBUS ! down the western sky. 
Far hence diffuse thy burning ray. 

Thy light to distant worlds supply. 
And wake them to the cares of day. 

Come, gentle Eve, the friend of Care, 
Come, Cynthia, lovely queen of night ! 

Refresh me with a cooling breeze. 
And cheer me with a lambent light. 

Lay me, where o'er the verdant ground 
Her living carpet Nature spreads ; 

Where the green bower, with roses crown'd. 
In showers its fragrant foliage sheds. 



138 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Improve the peaceful hour with wine. 

Let music die along the grove ; 
Around the bowl let myrtles twine. 

And every strain be tun'd to love. 

Come, Stella, queen of all my heart ! 

Come, born to fill its vast desires 1 
Thy looks perpetual joys impart. 

Thy voice perpetual love inspires. 

While all my wish, and thine complete, 
By turns we languish, and we burn ; 

Let sighitig gales our sighs repeat. 

Our murmurs, murm'ring brooks return. 

Let me, when Nature calls to rest. 
And blushing skies the morn foretell. 

Sink on the down of Stella's breast. 

And bid the waiting world farewell. johnson. 



AUTUMN. 

ALAS ! with swift and silent pace. 
Impatient Time rolls on the year ; 

The seasons change, and Nature's face 
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe. 

'Twas Spring, 'twas Summer, all was gay. 
Now Autumn bends a cloudy brow ; 

The flowers of Spring are swept away. 
And Summer's fruits desert the bough. 

The verdant leaves that play'd on high. 
And wanton'd on the western breeze ; 

Nov/ trod in dust^ neglected lie. 
As Boreas strips the bending trees. 

The fields that wav'd with golden grain. 
As russet heaths are wild and bare ; 

Not moist with dew, but drench'd in rain, 
Nor Health, nor Pleasure, wanders there. 

No more, while thro* the midnight shade. 
Beneath the moon's pale orb I stray. 

Soft pleasing ^voes my heart invade, 
As Progne pours the melting lay. 



CLASSICAL JENGLISH POETRY. 139 

From this capricious clime she soars, 
O ! would some god but wings supply. 

To where each morn the Spring restores. 
Companion of her flight I'd fly. 

Vain wish ! me Fate compels to bear 

The downward season's iron reign. 
Compels to breathe polluted air. 

And shiver on a blasted plain. 

What bliss to life can Autumn yield. 

If glooms, and showers, and storms prevail ; 

And Ceres flies the naked field. 

And flowers, and fruits, and Phoebus fail ! 

Oh ! what remains, what lingers yet. 
To cheer me in the dark'ning hour ! 

The grape remains ! the friend of wit. 
In love, and mirth, of mighty power. 

Haste, press the clusters, fill the bowl ; 

Apollo ! shoot thy parting ray : 
This gives the sunshine of the soul. 

This god of health, and verse, and day. 

Still, still the jocund strain shall flow. 
The pulse with vigorous rapture beat ; 

My Stella with new charms shall glow. 

And every bliss in v/ine shall meet. johnson. 



WINTER. 



NO more the mom, with rapid rays. 
Unfolds the flower of varied hue ; 

Noon spreads no more the genial blaze. 
Nor gentle eve distils the dew. 

The lingering hours prolong the night. 
Usurping Darkness shares the day ; 

Her mists restrain the force of light. 
And Phoebus holds a doubtful sway. 

By gloomy twilight half reveal'd. 
With sighs we view the hoary hill. 

The leafless wood, the naked field, 
The snow-top cot, the frozen rill. 



140 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

No music warbles thro' the grove, 

No vivid colours paint the plain ; 
No more with devious steps I rove 

Thro' v«rdant paths now sought in vain, 

Alond the driving tempest roars 

Congeal'd, impetuous showers descend ; 

Haste, close the windows, bar the doors. 
Fate leaves me Stella, and a friend. 

In Nature's aid let Art supply 

With light and heat my little sphere ; 

Rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high. 
Light up a constellation here. 

Let music sound, the voice of joy ! 

Or Mirth's gay tale shall please no more ; 
Nor music's charm, tho' Stella sings ; 

Nor love, nor wine, the Spring restore. 

Catch, then, O ! catch the transient hour. 

Improve each moment as it flies : 
Life's a short summer, man a flower. 

He dies-^*^as 1 how soon he dies ! johnson. 



THE EVENING PRIMROSE. 

THERE are that love the shades of life. 
And shun the splendid walks of Fame ; 

There are that hold it rueful strife 
To risk Ambition's losing game : 

That far from Envy's lurid eye 
The fairest fruits of Genius rear. 

Content to see them bloom and die 

In Friendship's small but kindly sphere. 

Than vainer flowers, tho' sweeter far. 
The evening primrose shuns the day ; 

Blooms only to the western star. 
And loves its solitary ray. 

In Eden's vale an aged hind. 

At the dim twilight's closing hour. 

On his time-sraooth'd staff reclin'd. 

With wonder view'd the opening flowed. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY.' 141 

" Ill-fated flower, at eve to blow," 

In pity's simple thought, he cries, 
" Thy bosom must not feel the glow 

" Of splendid suns, or smiling skies. 

" Nor thee the vagrants of the field, 

" The hamlet's little train, behold ; 
" Their eyes to sweet oppression yield, 

" When thine the falling shades unfold. 

" Nor thee the hastj^ shepherd heeds, 

" When love has fill'd his heart with cares ; 

" For flowers he rifles all the meads, 

" For v/aking flowers — ^but thine forbears. 

" Ah ! waste no more that beauteous bloom 
^* On night's chill shade, that fragrant breath, 

" Let smiling suns those gems illume ! 
'' Fair flower, to live unseen, is death." 

Soft as the voice of vernal gales 

That o'er the bending meadow blow ; 

Or streams that steal thro' even vales. 
And murmur that they move so slow : 

Deep in her unfrequented bower. 

Sweet Philomela pour'd her strain ; 
The bird of eve approv'd her flower. 

And answer'd thus the anxious swain : 

Live unseen ! 
By moonlight shades, in valleys green. 
Lovely flower, we'll live unseen. 
Of our pleasures deem not lightly, 
I^aughing day may look more sprightly ; 

But I love the modest mien. 

Still I love the modest mien 
Of gentle evening fair, and her star-trained queen. 

Didst thou, shepherd, never find. 

Pleasure is of pensive kind ? 

Har thy cottage never known 

That she loves to live alone ? 

Dost thou not at evening hour 

Feel some soft and secret power. 

Gliding o'er thy yielding mind. 

Leave sweet sincerity behind ; 

While all disarm'd. the cares of day 

Steal tliro" the falling gloom away } 



14-^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POEfftY. 

Love to think thy lot was laid 

In this undistinguish'd shade. 

Far from the world's infectious view. 

Thy little virtues safely blew. 

Go, and in day's more dangerous hour, 

Guard thy emblematic flower. langhorne. 



THE ORPHAN BOY. 

STAY, Lady, stay, for mercy's sake. 
And hear a helpless Orphan's tale ; 

Ah ! sure my looks must pity wake, 

'Tis want that makes my cheeks so pale ! 

Yet I was once a mother's pride. 

And my brave father's hope and joy ; 

But in the Nile's proud fight he died, 
And I am now an Orphan Boy ! 

Poor foolish child — ^how pleas'd was I, 
When news of Nebon's victory came ; 

Along the crowded streets to fly. 
And see the lighted windows flame I 

To force me home my mother sought. 
She could not bear to see my joy : 

For with my father's life 'twas bought. 
And made me a poor Orphan Boy ! 

The people's shouts were long and loud. 
My mother, shuddering, clos'd her ears ; 

Rejoice I rejoice ! still cried the crowd. 
My mother answer'd with her tears ! 

Why are you crying thus, said I, 

While others laugh and shout with joy ? 

She kiss'd me, and with such a sigh. 
She call'd me her poor Orphan Boy ! 

What is an Orphan Boy ? I said. 

When suddenly she gasp'd for breath. 

And her eyes clos'd — I shriek'd for aid. 
But, ah ! her eyes were clos'd in death I 

My hardships since I will not tell ; 

But now no more a parent's joy : 
Ah ! Lady, I have learn'd too well 

What 'tis to be an Orphan Boy ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 143 

Oh ! were I by your bounty fed. 

Nay, gentle Lady, do not chide ; 
Trust me- — I mean to earn my breach 

The Sailor's Orphan Boy has pride. 

Lady ! you weep— ah ! this to me ! 

You'll give me clothing, food, employ ; 
Look down, dear parents, look and see 

Your happy — happy Orphan B03' ! opis. 



ODE TO MAY. 

DEAR Gray ! that always in my heai't 
Possessest far the better part. 
What means these sudden blasts that rise. 
And drive the zephyi's from the skies .^ 
O join with mine thy tuneful lay. 
And invocate the tardy May. 

Come, fairest nymph ! resume thy reign, 
Bring all thy graces in thy train : 
With balmy breath and flow'ry tread 
Rise from the soft and ambrosial bed ; 
Where in Elysian slumber bound, 
Embow'ring myrtles veil thee round. 

Awake, in all thy glories drest. 
Recall the zephyrs from the west ; 
Restore the sun, revive the skies. 
At mine and Nature's call arise ! 
Great Nature's self upbraids thy stay. 
And misses her accustom'd May. 

See ! all her works demand thy aid. 
The labours of Pomona fade : 
A plaint is heard from ev'ry tree, 
Each budding flow'ret calls for thee ; 
The birds forget to love and sing. 
With storms alone the forests ring. 

Come, then, with Pleasure at thy side. 

Diffuse thy vernal spirit wide ; 

Create where'er thou turn'st thine eye^ 

Peace, plenty, love, and harmony ; 

'Till ev'ry being share its part. 

And Heav'n and Earth be glad at heart. west. 



144 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

THE COTTERS SATURDAY N^GHT^ 

NOVEMBER chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; 

The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; 
The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; 

The black'ning trains of crav/s to their repose ; 
The toil-worn cotter frae his labour goes. 

This night his weekly moil is at an end. 
Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes. 

Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend, 
And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hariie ward bend. 

At length his lonely cot appears in view, 

Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 
Th' expectant wee-things, todling, stacher thro' 

To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. 
His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily. 

His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifies smile. 
The Hsping infant prattling on his knee. 

Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, 
An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil. 

Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in. 

At service out amang the farmers roun'j 
Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 

A cannie errand to a neebor town : 
Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown. 

In youthful bloom, love sparkling in her e'e. 
Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown. 

Or deposite her fair- won penny fee. 
To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 

Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet. 

An' each for others' weelfai'e kindly speirs ; 
The social hours, swift- wing'd, unnotic'd fleet ; 

Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears : 
The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; 

Anticipation forward points the view. 
The mither, wi' her needle an* her shears. 

Gars auld claes look amaist as weel's the new ; 
The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 

Their master's an' their mistress's command. 

The younkers a' are warned, to obey ; 
An' mind their labours wi' an e/dent hand. 

An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 145 

*' An' O ! be sure to fear the Lord alway ! 

" An' mind your duty, duly, morn an' night ! 
** Lest in Temptation's path ye gang astray, \^ 

" Implore his counsel and assisting might ; [aright!" 
" They never sought in vain, that sought the Lqrdi 
But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; 

Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, ,| 

Tells how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor. 

To do some errands, and convoy her harae. ) 

The wily mother sees the conscious flame 

Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; 
With heart-struck anxious care, enipires his name, 

Wiiile Jenny hafiiins is afraid to speak ; (^rake. 

Weel pleas'd the mother hears, its nae wild worthless 

Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings Iiim ben ; 

A strappan youth : he taks the mother's eye ; 
Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 

The father cracks o' horses, pleughs, and kye. 
The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy. 

But blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave ; 
The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy. 

What maks the youth sae bashfu' and sae grave ; 
Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. 

O happy love, where love like this is found ! 

O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare .' 
I've paced much this weary, mortal round, 

And sage experience bids me this declare^ 

"'■ If Heav'n a draught of heav'nly pleasure spare, 

" One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
"^ 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, 

" In others' arms breathe out the tender tale, 
^^ Beneath the milk-white tliorn, that scents tlie ev'n- 
ing gale !" 

Is there, in human form, that bears a heart, 

A vtTetch ! a villian ! lost to love and truth ? 
That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art. 

Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? 
Curse on his perjur'd arts ! dissembling smooth ! 

Are Honour, Virtue, Conscience, all exil'd.^ 
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth. 

Points to the parents fondling o'er their child ? 
Then paints the ruin'd maid, and their distraction wild ! 

H 



140 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

But now the supper crowns tlieir simple board, 

The halesome porritch, chief o' Scotia's food : 
The soup their only hawkie does afford. 

That 'yont the hallan. snugly chows her cud . 
The dame brings forth in complimental mood. 

To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell. 
An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid; 

The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell. 
How 'twas a towraond auld, sin' lint was i* the bell 

The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face 

They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace. 

The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride : 
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside. 

His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare; 
Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 

He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
And " Let us worship God !" he says, with solemn 
air. 

They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 

They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; 
Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise. 

Or plaintive Martyrs', worthy of the name; 
Or noble Elgin's beats the heav'n-ward flame. 

The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays ; 
Compar'd with these, Italian trills are tame : 

The trickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise ; 
Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 

The priest-like father reads the sacred page. 

How Abram was the friend of God on high ; 
Or, Moses bade eternal warfare wage 

With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
Or how the royal Bard did groaning lie 

Beneath the stroke of heaven's avenging ire , 
Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; 

Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire ; 
Or other holy Seers that tune the sacred lyre. 

Perhaps the Christian Volume is the theme. 
How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; 

How He, who bore in Heav'n the second name, 
Had not on earth whereon to lay his head : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 24<7 

How his first followers and servants sped ; 

The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : 
How he, who lone in Patmos banished. 

Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand ; 
And heard great Bab'lon's doom pronounc'd by Heav'n's 
command. 

Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, 

The saint, the father, and the husband, prays : 
Hope ' springs exulting on triumphant wing,' 

That thus they all shall meet in future days : 
There ever bask in uncreated rays. 

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, 
Together hymning their Creator's praise, 

In such society, yet still more dear; 
While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere. 

Compar'd with this how poor Religion's pride. 

In all the pomp of method and of art. 
When men display to congregations wide. 

Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart ! 
The Pow'r, incens'd, the pageant will desert. 

The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; 
But haply, in some cottage far apart, 

May hear, well pleas'd, the language of the soul ; 
And in his Book of Life the inmates poor enroll. 

Then homeward all take off their several way ; 

The youngling cottagers retire to rest : 
The parent-pair their secret homage pay.. 

And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request ; 
That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest. 

And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride. 
Would in the way His wisdom sees the best, 

For them, and for their little ones, provide ; 
But chiefly, in their hearts, with grace divine preside. 

From scenes like these, old Scotia's grandeur springs, 

That makes her lov'd at home, rever'd abroad : 
Piinces and Lords are but the breath of Kings, 

' An honest man's the noblest work of God :' 
And certes, in fair Virtue's heav'nly road. 

The cottage leaves the palace far behind : 
What is a lordling's pomp ? — a cumbrous \ock3, 

Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, 
Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd 1 

H2 



148 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POEIR-Y. 

O Sco a ! my dear, my native soil ! 

For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent ! 
Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil, 

Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content ! 
And, O ! may Heav'n their simple lives prevent 

From Luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! 
I'hen, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 

A virtuous populace may rise the while. 
And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle, 

P tho I who pour'd the patriotic tide 

That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart ; 
Who dar'd to, nobly, stem tyrannic pride. 

Or nobly (lie, the second glorious part, 
(The patriot's God peculiarly thou art. 

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward !) 
O never, never, Scotia's realms desert ; 

But still the patriot, and the patriot bard. 
In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! 

BURNS. 



LUBIN AND HIS DOG TRAV. 

YOUNG Lubin was a shepherd's boy. 
Who watch'd a rigid master's sheep. 

And many a night was heard to sigh. 
And many a day was seen to weep. 

For not a lambkin e'er was lost. 
Or wether stray 'd to field remote. 

But Lubin ever was ta blame. 

Nor careful he, nor penn'd his cote. 

Yet not a trustier lad was known. 
To climb the promontory's brow : 

Nor yet a tenderer heart e'er beat. 
Beside the brook in vale below. 

From him stern Winter's drifting snow, 
Its pelting sleet, or frost severe. 

Or scorching Summer's sultry ray. 
Ne'er forc'd a murmur nor a tear. 

For, ah ! the varying seasons had 
To every hardship form'd his frame ; 

Tho' still his tender, feeling heart, 
By Nature nurs'd, remain'd the same. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 149 

But whither shall the orphan fly, 

To meet Protection's fostering power ? 

Oppression waits the future day. 
When Misery marks the natal hour. 

An orphan lad poor Lubin was. 

No friend, no relative had he ' 
His happiest hour was dash'd with woe ; 

His mildest treatment — tjnranny. 

It chanc'd that o'er the boundless heath, 
One winter's day, his flocks had spread. 

By hunger urg'd to seek the blade 
That lurks beneath its snowj bed. 

And hous'd at eve, his fleecy charge. 
He, sorrowing, miss'd a fav'rite lamb. 

That shunn'd the long-persisting search, 
Nor answer'd to its bleating dam. 

With heavy heart he bent his way, 

And told so true, so sad a tale. 
That almost pierc'd the marble breast 

Of ruthless Rufus of the Vale. 

Poor Lubin own'd his flocks had stray'd, 

Own'd he had sufFer'd them to go : 
Yes, he had learn'd to pity them. 

For often he had hunger'd too : 

And had he to their pinching wants 

The unnipp'd neighb'ring bound deny'd. 

They sure had dropp'd — as surely too 
The pitying shepherd-boy had died. 

" Then die !" th' unfeeling master said. 
And spurn'd him from his closing door. 

Which, till he found his favourite lamb. 
He vow'd should ne'er admit him more. 

Dark was the night, and o'er the waste 
The whistling winds did fiercely blow. 

And 'gainst his poor unshelter'd head. 
With arrowy keenness, came the snow. 

Yet thus he left his master's house. 

And shap'd his sad uncertain way ; 
By man unnotic'd and forsook. 

And follow'd but by — trusty Tray. 

H3 



ItiO CLASSICAL ENiJLISH POETRY, ., 

Unlike to worldly friends were they ^.irlH^i J»fH 
Who separate in Fortune's blast, 

They still were near when fair the sky, 
But nearer still when overcast 

When Lubin's random step involv'd 
His body 'neath the drifted snow. 

Tray help'd him forth ; and v/hen Tray fell. 
Poor Lubin dragg'd Iiira from below. 

Benumb'd, at length, his stiff 'ning joints. 
His tongue to Tray could scarcely speak ; 

His tears congeal'd to icicles. 

His hair hung clatt'ring 'gainst his cheek. 

As thus he felt his falt'ring limbs 
Give omen of approaching death, 

Aurora, from her eastern hills, 

Rush'd forth, and staid his fleeting breath ; 

And shoVd to his imperfect sight 
The harmless cause of all his woe. 

His little lambkin cold and stiff, 

Stretch'd on its bed of glist'ning snow. 

" 'Tis just," he said, " that where thou liest 
" I'he careless shepherd-boy should lie : 

" Thou diest, poor fool ! for want of food ; 
" I fall, for suffering thee to die. 

" But oh ! my master I" broken, short. 
Was every half word now he spoke ; 

" Severe has been thy constant will, 
" And galling sure thy heavy yoke. 

" A warmer couch hast thou to press, 
" Secure from cramping frosts thy feet • 

*^ And Gouldst thou boast so free a breast, 
" Thou yet might'st die a death as sweot. 

*' My trusty dog — that wistful look 

" Is all that makes ray poor heart heave : 

" But hie thee home, proclaim me dead, 
'' Forget to think, and cease to grieve." 

So saying shrunk the hapless youth 
Beneath the chilling grasp of death ; 

And, clasping poor Tray's shaggy neck, 
Sigh'd gently forth his parting breath ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. I.5i 

His faithful, fond, sagacious dog, :v,t '^iV.-i^l 
Hung watchful o'er his master's clay ; 

And many a moan the creature made. 
And many a thing he strove to say. 

But not a sign of lurking life 

Thro' all his frame he found to creep ; 

He knew not what it was to die. 
But knew his master did not sleep. 

Great grief assail'd his untaught heart. 

And quickly laid its victim low ! 
His master's cheek his pillow cold. 

Their common bed the colder snow ! Anon. 



A CONTEMPLATION ON NIGHT. 

WHETHER amid the gloom of night I stray. 
Or my glad eyes enjoy revolving day. 
Still Nature's various face informs my sense. 
Of an all- wise, all-powerful Providence. 

When the gay sun first breaks the shades of night. 
And strikes the distant eastern hills with light. 
Colour returns, the plains their livery wear. 
And a bright verdure clothes the smiling year ; 
The blooming flowers with opening beauties glow. 
And grazing flocks their milky fleeces show ; 
The barren cliffs with chalky fronts arise. 
And a pure azure arches o'er the skies. 
But when the gloomy reign of Night returns, 
Stript of her fading pride all Nature mourns : 
The trees no more their wonted verdure boast ; 
But weep in dewy tears their beauty lost: 
No distant landscapes draw our curious eyes ; 
Wrapt in Night's robe the whole creation lies. 
Yet still, ev'n now, while darkness clothes the land. 
We view the traces of th' Almighty hand ; 
Millions of stars in Heav'n's wide vault appear. 
And with new glories hang the boundless sphere ; 
The silver moon her western couch forsakes. 
And o'er the skies her nightly circle makes ; 
Her solid globe beats back the sunny rays. 
And to the world her borrow'd light repays. 

Whether those stars, that twinkling lustre send. 
Are suns, and rolling worlds those suns attend, 

H4 



152 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Man may conjecture, and new schemes declare 71* 3ta/fVf 
Yet all his systems but conjectures are. ■ r! 

But this we know, that Heav'n's eternal King, 
Who bade this universe from nothing spring. 
Can at his word, bid numerous worlds appear. 
And rising worlds th' all-powerful word shall hear. 

"When to the western main the sun descends. 
To other lands a rising day he lends ; 
The spreading dawn another shepherd spies, 
The wakeful flocks from their warm folds arise ; 
Refresh'd, the peasant seeks his early toil. 
And bids the plough correct the fallow soil. 
While we in Sleep's embraces waste the night. 
The climes oppos'd, enjoy meridian light : 
And when those lands the busy sun forsakes. 
With us again the rosy morn awakes ; 
In lazy sleep the night rolls swift away. 
And neither clime laments his absent ray. 

When the pure soul is from the body flown. 
No more shall Night's alternate reign be known : 
The sun no more shall rolling light bestow. 
But from th' Almighty streams of glory flow. 
Oh ! may some nobler thought my soul employ, 
Then empty, transient, sublunary joy! 
The stars shall drop, the sun shall lose his flame : 
But thou, O God ! for ever shine the same. gay. 



THE OWL AND THE GLOW-WORM. 
A FABLE. 

'TWAS on a sombre summer night, 
A Glow-worm, shelter'd by a flow'r. 

Spread round its paly glimm'ring light. 
To decorate the silent hour. 

No brilliant beam, no gaudy glare, 
Diffus'd afar its lustrous ray. 

But thro' the softly-breathing air 
The insect shed its mimic day. 

While pleas'd its harmless life to pass 
On hillock green of dewy grass. 

Attracted by its azure gleam. 
The butterfly, with sportive wing, 
Wou'd form the gay fantastic ring, 

(As in the burning noon-tide bei^m,) 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. ll^^ 

Where, 'mid the gloom, this insect star display'd''^ ^^^'^^-'^ 
Its cheerful lamp— spangling the realms of shad#^^^" -^5, 

Near, on a mould'ring antique tow'r. 

The prison of its moping race. 
An owl had chose its murky bow'r. 

And hating Day's effulgent light ; 

Its joy, the sullen frown of night. 

Its blank domain the silent space ! 

There, prompt to spread its shadowy wings. 

Imperious, o'er less daring things ; 

Soon as the Glow-worm's peaceful state 

Fix'd his dull eyes, in envious hate, 
'^ Bold worm ! (exclaim'd the tyrant vain,) 
" Thou, who with sparkling light art seen 
" Peering the lonely shades between, 
" How dar'st thou mock my gloomy reign? 
'' Thou shalt expire !" The Glow-worm meek, 

(Its trembling light more faint and pale,) 
In humble accents, low and weak. 
Thus told Its true, but artless tale : 
" I own that, of the insect race, 
'^ I boast no gaudy splendid grace ; 
" I light with feeble lamp the way 
'* Where prouder, loftier, beings stray ; 
'^ I sip the balmy dews around, 
" But ne'er am heard with busy sound ; 
'^ Ne'er on your calm repose obtrude 
^^ With counsel vain, or clamour rude. 
" Can I offend superior things, 
" Or cope with birds of pow'rful wings ?" 

The Owl, indignant, bold, and base. 
Exulting o'er the insect race, / 

Replied — " You shine ! detested thing ! 
" To me, offensive light you bring." — 
Then, pouncing on his humble prey, 
Darken'd, in death, its little ray ; 
But found, tho' quench'd the quiv'ring flame. 
His sombre hour was still the same ! CrAY, 



THE POET AND THE ROSE. 
A FABLE. 

I HATE the man who builds his name 
On ruins qf another's fame. 

H5 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Thus prudes by eharacters o'erthrowR,-^j^^. 
Imagine that they raise their ovni. 
Thus scribblers, covetous of praise. 
Think slander can transplant the bays. 
Beauties and Bards have equal pride ; 
With both all rivals are decry'd. 
Who praises Lesbia's eyes and feature. 
Must call her sister awkward creature ; 
For the kind flattery's sure to charm, 
When we some other nymph disarm. 

As in the cool of early day, 
A Poet sought the sweets of May, 
The garden's fragrant breath ascends. 
And every stalk with odour bends ; 
A Rose he pluck'd, he gaz/d, admir'd, 
Thus singing as the Muse inspired : 
*' Go, Rose, my Chloe's bosom grace ; 

" How happy should I prove, 
" Might I supply that envy'd place, 

" With never-fading love ! 
*' There, phoenix-like, beneath her eye, 
" Involved in fragrance, burn and die. 
" Know, hapless flower ! that thou shalt find 

" More fragrant Roses there : 
-^' I see thy withering head reclin'd, 

" With envy and despair ! 
" One common fate we both must prove ; 
" You die with envy, I with love." 

'' Spare your comparisons," reply'd 
An angry Rose, who grew beside ; 
" Of all mankind you should not flout us; 
'^ What can a Poet do without us ? 
" In every love-song Roses bloom ; 
" We lend you colour and perfume: 
'' Does it to Chloe's charms conduce, 
'^ To sound her praise on our abuse ? 
*' Must we, to flatter her, be made 
^' To whither, envy, pine, and fade ? g 



PLEASURES OF A FOREST. 



I would speak 



The calm that stills your wilds — their guests o'er spreads 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. IBS 

DifFusive-^creeps along the conscious {rame;(S.^^^^l 

Bids pause each artery. — stay each active limb; lI 

Each rebel passion chains^ and thro' the soul I' 

Breathes holy peace and universal love ! 

For since the globe first roll'd — in every land;, 

Your shades, ye Forests, the deluded heart v 

To heavenly meditation still have call'd, 

And ev'ry song that glorified your God, rf 

Have heard with eager gladness ! Ye with joy, i 

Fresh from his Maker's hand, when Man arose 

Saw him in wond'ring homage kneel — ye bade 

Your yet unpractis'd echoes swell the sound, 

High as the Eternal's throne, when praise first broke 

The silence of the new-created world ! 

Ye, when with bloody arm infuriate Rome, 

Pagan or papal from the haunts of men, 

Chac'd the firm band, whom Truth forbade to yield. 

Crouch to her priests, and worship at her nod, 

Ye screen'd their flight— with hospitable gloom 

Shelter'd their miseries, and with mingling boughs, 

i^ocal to a pray'r, a sylvan fane supplied ! 

O yet, even yet, your sacred influence breathe. 

Oft as I tread your leaf-strewn paths to rest, 

LuH each tumultuous wish — with reverend awe 

My heart inspire — and your stately growth 

Pursues its heaven-directed aim — exalt 

My thoughts from earth, and point them to the skies I 

GISBORKS, 



TO THE RISING SUN. 

FROM the red wave rising bright. 
Lift on high thy golden head ; 
O'er the misty mountains spread 
Thy smiling rays of orient light I 
See the golden God appear I 
Flies the fiend of darkness drear ; 
Flies, and in her gloomy train. 
Sable Grief, and Care, and Pain ! 
See the golden God advance ! 
On Taurus' heights his coursers prance : 
With him haste the vernal hours. 
Breathing sweets, and drooping flowers. 
Laughing Summer at his side. 
Waves her locks in rosy pride | 

H6 



.156 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

And Autumn bland, with aspect kind. 

Bears his golden sheaf behind. 

O haste, and spread the purple day 

O'er all the wide ethereal way ! 

Nature mourns at thy delay : 

God of glory haste away I 

From the red wave rising bright. 

Lift on high thy golden head ; 

O'er the misty mountains spread 
Thy smiling rays of orient light ! langhorne. 



ETERNITY. 

ERE the foundations of the world were laid. 
Ere kindling light th' Almighty word obey'd. 
Thou wert ; and when the subterraneous flame 
Shall burst this prison, and devour this frame ; 
From angry Heaven ; when the keen lightning flies. 
When fervent heat dissolves the melting skies. 
Thou still shalt be, still a^s thou wert before. 
And know no change, when time shall be no more. 
O endless thought ! divine Eternity ! 
Th' immortal soul shares but a part of thee ! 
For thou wert present when our life began. 
When the warm dust shot up in breathing man. 

Ah ! what is life ? with ills encompass'd round. 
Amidst our hopes. Fate strikes the sudden wound ; 
To-day the statesman of new honour dreams, 
To-morrow Death destroys his airy schemes. 
Is mouldy treasure in thy chest confin'd ? 
Think all that treasure thou must leave behind ; 
Thy heir with smiles shall view thy blazon'd hearse. 
And all thy hoards with lavish hand disperse. 
Should certain Fate th' impending blow delay. 
Thy mirth will sicken, and thy bloom decay; 
Then feeble age will all thy nerves disarm. 
No more thy blood its narrow channels v/arm. 
Who then would wish to stretch this narrow span. 
To suffer life beyond the date of man ? 

The virtuous soul pursues a nobler aim. 
And life regards but as a fleeting dream : 
She longs to wake, and wishes to get free. 
To launch from earth into Eternity. 
For while the boundless theme extends our thought. 
Ten thousand thousand rolling years are nought, gay. 



e3LA§SICAfe mNGfclSH RQETRY. 1 5? 



A father's advice to his son. 

DEEP in a grove by cypress shaded. 
Where mid-day sun has seldom shone, 

Or noise the solemn scene invaded. 
Save some afflicted Muse's moan : 

A swain t'wards full-ag'd manhood wending. 
Sate sorrowing at the close of day ; 

At whose fond side a boy attending, 
Lisp'd half his father's cai'es away. 

The Father's eyes no object wrested. 

But on the smiling prattler hung ; 
Till, what his throbbing heart suggested. 

These accents trembled from his tongue : 

" My youth's first hope, my manhood's treasure, 

" My prattling innocent, attend, 
" Nor fear rebuke, or sour displeasure, 

" A Father's loveliest name is Friend. 

" Some truths, from long experience flowing, 
" Worth more than royal grants, receive ; 

" For truths are wealth of Heav'n's bestowing, 
*^ Which Kings have seldom power to give. 

" Since from an ancient race descended, 

" You boast an unattainted blood, 
" By yours be their fair fame attended, 

" And claim by birth-right to be good. 

" In love for ev'ry fellow-creature 

" Superior rise above the crowd ; 
" What most ennobles human nature 

" Was ne'er the portion of the proud. 

" Be thine the generous heart that borrows 
" From others' joys a friendly glow ; 

" And for each neighbour's hapless sorrows, 
" Throbs with a sympathetic woe. 

*' This is the temper most endearing ; 

'* Tho* wide proud pomp her banners spreads^ 
" An heav'nlier power good-nature bearing, 

" Each heart in willing thraldom leads. 



158 CLASSICAL ENGLIStt tOETRY. 

" Taste not from Fame's uncertain fountain 
" The peace-destroying streams that flow ; 

" Nor from Ambition's dang'rous mountain 
" Look down upon the world below. 

" The princely pine on hills exalted, 
" Whose lofty branches cleave the sky, 

" By winds, long brav'd, at last assaulted, 
« Is headlong hurl'd in dust to lie. 

" Whilst the mild rose, more safely growing 

*' Low in its unaspiring vale, 
" Amidst Retirement's shelter blowing, 

'^ Exchanges sweets with every gale. 

" Wish not for Beauty's darling features, 
" Moulded by Nature's fondling pow'r ; 

" For fairest forms 'mong human creatures 
" Shine but the pageants of an hour. 

*' I saw, the pride of all the meadow, 
" At noon, a gay Narcissus blow 

" Upon a river's bank, whose shadow 
** Bloom'd in the silver waves below : 

" By noon-tide's heat its youth had wasted, 
" The waters as they pass'd complain'd ; 

" At eve its glories were all blasted, 
" And not one former tint remain'd. 

" Nor let vain Wit's deceitful glory, 
*' Lead you from Virtue's path astray ; 

" What genius lives renown'd in story, 
** To happiness who found the way j* 

" In yonder mead behold that vapour, 
" Whose vivid beams illusive play ; 

^' Far off, it seems a friendly taper 
" To guide the traveller on his way. 

" But should some hapless wretch pursuing, 
" Tread where the treach'rous meteors glow, 

" He'd find, too late, his rashness rueing, 
" That fatal quicksands lurk below. 

" In life sueli bubbles nought admiring, 
^^ Gilt with false light, and fiU'd with air, 

" Do you, from pageant crowds retiring, 
" To peace in Virtue's cot repair ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 159 

" There seek the never-wasted treasure, 
" Which mutual love and friendship give, 

" Domestic comfort, spotless pleasure ; 
" And blest and blessing you will live. 

" If Heav'n with children crowns your dwelling, 
*" As mine its bounty does with you, 

" In fondness fatlierly excelling, 

" Th' example, you have felt, pursue." 

He paus'd, for tenderly caressing 

The darling of his wounded heart ; 
Looks had means only of expressing. 

Thoughts language never could impart. 

Now Night her mournful mantle spreading. 
Had rob'd with black th' horizon round. 

And dank dews from her tresses shedding. 
With genial moisture bath'd the ground : 

When back to city follies flying, 

'Midst Custom's slaves he liv'd resign'd ; 

His face, array'd in smiles, denying 
The true complexion of his mind : 

For seriously around surveying 

Each character, in youth and age. 
Of fools betray'd, and knaves betraying, 

That play'd upon this human stage. 

Peaceful himself and undesigning. 

He loath'd the scenes of guile and strife. 

And felt each secret wish inclining 
To leave this fretful farce of life. 

Yet to whatever above was fated. 

Obediently he bow*d his soul ; 
For what all-bounteous Heav'n created. 

He thought Heav'n only should control. 

COWPEK. 



A SUMMER EVENING. 



HOW fine has the day been, how bright was the sun, 
How lovely and joyful the course that he run, 
Tho' he rose in a mist when his race he begun. 
And there foliow'd some droppings of rain I 



too CLASSICAL EK^GLiSH i^OETRY. 

But now the fair traveller's come to the west, V 

His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best; 
He paints tlte sky gay as he sinks to his rest. 
And foretells a bright rising again» 

Just such is the Christian : his course he begins. 
Like the sun in a mist, while he mourns for his sins. 
And melts into tears : then he breaks out and shines, 

And travels his heavenly way : 
But when he comes nearer to finish his race. 
Like a fine setting sun he looks richer in grace. 
And gives a sure hope at the end of his days, 

Qf rising in brighter array. watts. 

NEW year's day. 

YE gladsome bells— how misapplied your peal ! 

A day like this requires a solemn chime ; 
Infatuate mortals ! why with sportive heel. 

Dance ye exulting o'er the gi'ave of Time ? 

Is he your foe that thus you ring his kne^l. 
That festive notes announce his awful flight ? 

Tire ye of day — that sounds of triumph tell 

How swift the wing that wafts your last long night ? 

While circling years o'er thoughtless myriads roll. 
Long folly, but to lenil, and length of shame ; 

Ye metal tongues swing slow, with mournful toll. 
Virtue's departed season to proclaim ! 

Sons of delay ! whose duties, yet undone 
Await from yeai* to year, your hand in vain. 

Drown — drown that brazen music with a groan ! 
The years ye lost — shall ne'er be yours again ! 

FAWCETT. 



DEATH AND WAR. 

— — — — DEEP in a murky cave's recess, 
Lav'd by Oblivion's listless stream, and fenc'd 
By shelving rocks, and intermingled horrors. 
Of yew and cypress shade, from all intrusion 
Of busy noontide beam, the Monarch sits 
In unsubstantial majesty entliron'd. 



CLASSICAL ENGUSH POETRV. 1 51 

At his right hand, nearest himself in place 

And frightfulness of form, his parent Sin 

With fatal industry and cruel care 

Busies herself in pointing all his stings, 

And tipping every shaft with venom drawn 

From her infernal store : around him_, ranged 

In terrible array, and mixture strange 

Of uncouth shapes, stand his dread Ministers. 

Foremost Old Age, his natural ally 

And firmest friend : next him Diseases thick, 

A motley train : Fever, with cheek of fire ; 

Consumption, wan ; Palsy, half warm with life, '- 

And half a clay-clod lump; joint-tort'ring Gout, 

And ever-gnawing Rheum ; Convulsion wild ; ^ . , v. - 

Swoln Dropsy ; panting Asthma ; Apoplex 

Fuii-gorg'd. There too the Pestilence that walks 

In dai'kness, and the Sickness that destroys 

At broad noon-day. These, and a thousand more, 

Horrid to tell, attentive wait ; and, when 

By Heav'ns command Death waves his ebon war.d. 

Sudden rush forth to execute his purpose. 

And scatter desolation o'er the earth. 

'Twas Man himself 
Brought Death into the world ; and Man himself 
Gave keenness to his darts, quicken'd his pace. 
And multiply'd destruction on mankind. 

First Envy, eldest born of Hell, embrued 
Her hands in blood, and taught the sons of men 
To make a death which Nature never made. 
And God abhorr'd : with violence rude to break 
The thread of life ere half its length was run. 
And rob a wretched brother of his being. 
With joy Ambition saw, and soon improv'd 
The execrable deed. 'Twas not enough 
By subtle fraud to snatch a single life : 
Puny impiety ! whose kingdoms fell 
To sate the lust of power; more horrid still. 
The foulest stain and scandal of our nature. 
Became its boast. One murder made a villain. 
Millions a hero. Princes were privileged -^... 

To kill, and numbers sanctified the crime. 
Ah ! why will kings forget that they are men ? 
And men that they are brethren ? Why delight 
In human sacrifice ? Why burst the ties 



162 CLASSICAL feNGLiSH POETRV* 

Of Nature, that should knit their souls together 

In one soft bond of amity and love ? 

Yet still they breathe destruction, still go on 

Inhumanly ingenious to find out 

New pains for life, new terrors for the grave. 

Artificers of Death ! Still monarchs dream 

Of universal empire Rowing up 

From universal ruin. Blast the design. 

Great God of Hosts, nor let thy creatures fall 

Unpitied victims at Ambition's shrine ! 

Yet say, should tyrants learn at last to feel. 
And the loud din of battle cease to bray ; 
Should dove-ey'd Peace o'er all the earth extend 
Her olive branch, and give the world repose. 
Would Death be foil'd ? Would health, and strength, 

and youth. 
Defy his pow'r ? Has he no arts in store, 
No other shafts, save those of War ? Alas ! 
Ev'ii in the smile of Peace, that smile which sheds 
A heav'nly sunshine o'er the soul, there basks 
That serpent Luxury. War its thousands slays ; 
Peace its ten thousands. In th' embattled plain 
Tho' Death exults, and claps his raven wings. 
Yet reigns he not ev'n there so absolute. 
So merciless, as in yon frantic scenes 
Of midnight revel and tumultuous mirth. 
Where in th' intoxicating draught conceal'd, 
Or couch'd beneath the glance of lawless love, 
He snares the simple youth, who nought suspecting. 
Means to be blest-~but finds himself undone. 

PORTEUS. 



HAPPINESS CONSISTS IN THE PRACTICE OF VIRTUE. 

KNOW then this truth, (enough for man to know,) 

'' Virtue alone is happiness below." 

The only point where human bliss stands still. 

And tastes the good without the fall to ill ; 

Where only Merit constant pay receives. 

Is blest in what it takes and what it gives ; 

The joy unequall'd, if its end it gain, 

And, if it lose, attended with no pain : 

Without satiety, tho' e'er so bless'd. 

And but more relish'd as the more distress'd : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETE^, l6S 

The broadest mirth unfeeling Fally wear%|| 311* j^ 
Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears : 
Good from each object, from each place acquir'd. 
For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd ; 
Never elated while one man's oppress'd ; 
Never dejected while another's blest ; 
And where no wants, no wishes can remain. 
Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain. , 

See the sole bliss Heav'n could on all bestow. 
Which who but feels can taste; but thinks, can know: 
Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind. 
The bad must miss; the good, untaught, will find; 
^Slave to no sect, who takes no private road. 
But looks thro' Nature up to Nature's God ; 
Pursues that chain which links th' immense design. 
Joins heav'n and earth, and mortal and divine ; 
Sees, that no being any bliss can know. 
But touches some above, and some below; 
Learns from this union of the rising whole. 
The first, last purpose, of the human soul ; 
And knows where faith, law, morals, all began. 
All end in love of God, and love of man. 

For him alone, Hope leads from goal to goal. 
And opens still, and opens on his soul ; 
Till lengthen'd on to Faith, and unconfin'd. 
It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. 
He sees why Nature plants in man alone 
Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown. 
(Nature, whose dictates to no other kind 
Are giv'n in vain, but what they seek they find :) 
Wise is her present ; she connects in this 
His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss ; 
At once his own bright prospect to be blest. 
And strongest motive to assist the rest. 

Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine. 
Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine. 
Is this too little for thy boundless heart ? 
Extend it, let thy enemies have part : 
Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life, and sense. 
In one close system of benevolence : 
Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree. 
And height of bliss but height of charity. 

God loves from whole to parts : but human soul 
Must rise from individual to the whole. 



l64f CLASSICAL- ENGLISH POETRY. 

Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake. 

As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake ; 

The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds. 

Another still, and still another spreads ; 

Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace ; 

His country next ; and next all human race ; 

Wide and more wide, th' o'erflowings of the mind 

Takeev'ry creature in, of ev'ry kind; 

Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, 

AndHeav'n beholds its image in his breast. Pope. 



ON THE DEITY. 

I READ God's awful name emblazon'd high 
With golden letters on th' illumin'd sky ; 
Nor less the mystic characters I see 
Wrought in each flow'r, inscrib'd on ev'rj' tree ; 
In ev'ry leaf that trembles to the breeze, 
I hear the voice of God among the trees. 
W^ith thee in shady solitudes I walk. 
With thee in busy crowded cities talk ; 
In every creature own thy forming power. 
In each event thy providence adore. 

Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul. 
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control : 
Thus shall I rest, unmov'd by all alarms. 
Secure within the temple of thine arms ; 
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free. 
And feel myself omnipotent in thee. 

Then when the last, the closing hour, draws nigh. 
And earth recedes before my swimming eye ; 
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate 
I stand, and stretch my view to either state ; 
Teach me to quit this transitory scene 
With decent triumph, and a look serene ; 
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high. 
And, having liv'd to thee, in thee to die. barbaulb. 



THE CHOICE OF HERCULES. 



Now had the son of Jove, mature, attain'd 

The joyful prime ; when youth, elate and gay. 

Steps into life, and follows unrestrain'd 

Where passion leads, or prudence points the way. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 165 

In the pure mind, at those ambiguous years. 

Or vice, rank weed, first strikes her pois'nous root ; 

Or haply virtue's op'ning bud appears 

By just degrees, fair bloom of fairest fruit ! 

For, if on youth's untainted thought imprest, 

The gen'rous purpose still shall warm the manly breast. 

As on a day, reflecting on his age 

For highest deeds now ripe, Alcides sought 
Retirement, nurse of contemplation sage, 

Step following step, and thought succeeding thought ; 
Musing, with steady pace the youth pursu'd 

His walk, and lost in meditation stray 'd 
Far in a lonely vale, with solitude 

Conversing; while intent his mind survey 'd 
The dubious path of life : before him lay. 
Here Virtue's rough ascent, there Pleasure's flowery way. 

Much did the view divide his wav'ring mind ; 

Now glow'd his breast with gen'rous thirst of fame ; 
Now love of ease to softer thoughts inciin'd 

His yielding soul, and quench'd the rising flame : 
When, lo ! far off two female forms he spies : 

Direct to him their steps they seem to bear ; 
Both large and tall, exceeding human size ; 

Both, far exceeding human beauty, fair ; 
Graceful, yet each with diff'rent grace they move ; 
This striking sacred awe ; that, softer winning love. 

The first in native dignity surpass'd ; 

Artless and unadorn'd she pleas'd the more ! 
Health o'er her looks a genujne lustre cast ; 

A vest more white than new-fall'n snow she wore : 
August she trod, yet modest was her air ; 

Serene her eye, yet darting heavenly fire. 
Still she drew near ; and nearer still more fair. 

More mild, appear'd : yet such as might inspire 
Pleasure, corrected with'an awful fear ; 
Majestically sweet, and amiably severe. 

The other dame seem'd e'en of fairer hue ; 

But bold her mien, unguarded rov'd her eye ; 
And her flush'd cheeks confess'd at nearer view 

The borrow'd blushes of an artful dye. 
All soft and delicate, with airy swim 

Lightly she danc'd along ; her robe betray'd 



ljB6 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Thro' the clear texture every tender limb. 

Height'ning the charms it only seem'd to shade: 
And as it flow'd adown, so loose and thin, rv 

Her stature show'd more tall^ more snowy-white her skin. 

Oft with a smile she view'd herself askance ; 

Ev'n on her shade a conscious look she threw : 
Then all around her cast a careless glance. 

To mark what gazing eyes her beauty drew. 
As they came near, before that other maid 

Approaching decent, eagerly she press'd 
With hasty step ; nor of repulse afraid. 

With freedom bland the wand'ring youth address'd : 
With winning fondness on his neck she hung: 
Sweet as the honey-dew flow'd her enchanting tongue : 

" Dear Hercules, whence this unkind delay ? 

" Dear youth, what doubts can thus distract thy mind? 
" Securely follow where I lead the way, 

" And range thro' wilds of pleasure unconfin'd. 
" With me retire from noise, and pain, and care, 

" Embath'd in bliss, and wrapt in endless ease: 
^^ Rough is the road to fame, thro' blood and war : 

" Smooth is my way, and all my paths are peace. 
" With me retire, from toils and perils free ; [thee. 

" Leave honour to the wretch ! pleasures were made for 

" Then will I grant thee all thy soul's desire ; 

" All that may charm thine ear, and please thy sight; 
" All that the thought can frame, or wish require, 

" To steep thy ravish'd senses in delight : 
*-' The sumptuous feast, enhanc'd with music's sound, 
" Fittest to tune the melting soul to love, 
" Rich odours, breathing choicest sweets around; 

'' The fragrant bow'r, cool fountain, shady grove; 
" Fresh flow'rs to strew thy couch, and crown thy head; 
" Joy shall attend thy steps, and ease shall smooth thy bed. 

*' These will I freely, constantly supply, 

'' Pleasures not earn'd with toil, nor raix'd with woe; 
" Far from thy rest repining want shall fly, 

"^ Nor labour bathe in sweat thy careful brow. 
" Mature the copious harvest shall be thine, 

" Let the laborious hind subdue the soil ; 
*^ Leave the rash soldier spoils of war to win, 
"""\i 'VVon by the soldier thou shalt share the spoil ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. -M&7 

'' These softer cares my best allies employ/^JJ '^^-^fiT * 
" New pleasures to invent, to wish, and to enjoyi" 

Her winning voice the youth attentive caught : 

He gaz'd impatient on the smiling maid ; 
Still gaz'd, and listen'd ; then her name besought : 

" My name, fair youth, is Happiness," she said. 
" Well can my friends this envied truth maintain ; 

" They share my bliss, they best can speak my praise : 
" Tho' Slander call me Sloth (detraction vain !) 

" Heed not what Slander, vain detractor, says : 
*' Slander, still prompt true merit to defame, 
*' To blot the brightest worth, and blast the fairest name." 

By this arriv'd the fair majestic maid : 

She all the while, with the same modest pace, 
Compos'd advanc'd : " Know, Hercules," she said. 

With manly tone, " thy birth of heavenly race ; 
" Thy tender age, that lov'd Instruction's voice, 

'^ Promis'd thee generous, patient, brave, and wise, 
" When manhood should confirm thy glorious choice ; 

" Now expectation waits to see thee rise. 
" Rise, youth ! exalt thyself and me ; approve 
" Thy high descent from heaven, and dare be worthy Jove. 

-' But what truth prompts, my tongue shall not disguise i 

'' The ^teep ascent must be with toil subdu'd ; 
/'^ Watching and cares must win the lofty prize 

'' Propos'd by Heav'n — true bliss, and real good. 
" Honour rewards the brave and bold alone ; 

" She spurns the timorous, indolent, and base : 
" Danger and toil stand stem before her throne, 

" And guard (so Jove commands) the sacred place. 
*' Who seeks her must the mighty cost sustain, 
" And pay the price of fame — labour, and care, and pain. 

" Wouldst thou engage the gods' peculiar care ? 

" O Hercules, th' immortal pow'rs adore ! 
" With a pure heart, with sacrifice, and pray'r 

" Attend their altars, and their aid implore. 
" Or, wouldst thou gain thy countiy's loud applause, 

" Lov'd as her father, as her god ador'd } 
" Be thou the bold assertor of her cause ; 

" Her voice in council, in the fight her sword : 
" In peace, in war, pursue thy country's good ; j^blood. 
" For her bare thy bold breast, and pour thy generous 



WB CbASSlCAL ENGUSH POETRY. 

" Wouldst thou, to quell the proud, and lift th' opprest, 

'' In arts of war and matchless sti'ength excel ? 
-' First conquer thou thyself: to ease, to rest, 

'" To each soft thought of pleasure, bid farewell. 
" The night alteiTiate, due to sweet repose, 

" In watches waste ; in painful march, the day : 
'' Congeal'd amidst the rigorous winter's snows, 

" Scorch'd by the summer's thirst-inflaming ray, 
^•' Thy harden'd limbs shall boast superior might : 
" Vigour shall brace thine ai'm resisdess in the fight." 

'' Hear'st thou what monsters then thou must engage? 

•' What dangers, gentle youth, she bids thee prove ?' 
(Abrupt, says Sloth) — " ill fit thy tender age— - 

'' Tumults and wars, fit age for joy and love. 
" Turn, gentle youth, to me, to love and joy ! 

" To these I lead : no monsters here shall stay 
" Thine easy course ; no cares thy peace annoy ; 

" I lead to bliss a nearer, smoother way : 
'• Short is my way, fair, easy, smooth, and plain ; 
*• Turn, gentle youth — with me eternal pleasures reign !" 

" What pleasures, vain mistaken wretch, are thine ?* 

(Virtue with scorn replied) " who sleep'st in ease 
<' Insensate : whose soft limbs the toil decline 

"^' That seasons bless, and makes enjoyment please ; 
'' Draining the copious bowl ere thirst require ; 

" Feasting ere hunger to the feast invite ; 
" Whose tastless joys anticipate desire, 

''- Whom luxury supplies with appetite : 
*' Yet nature loaths, and you employ in vain 
'' Variety and art to conquer her disdain. 

I' The sparkling nectar, cool'd with summer snows, 

" The dainty board with choicest viands spread, 
'^^ To thee are tasteless all ! sincere repose 

" Flies from thy flow'ry couch and downy bed.' 
" For thou art only tir'd with indolence ; 

" Nor is thy sleep with toil and labour bought, 
'' Th' imperfect sleep that lulls thy languid sense 

" In dull oblivious interval of thought ; 
" That kindly steals th' inactive hours away 
" From the long ling'ring space, that lengthens out the 
day. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. l69 

" FrOtn bounteous Nature's unexhausted stores 

" Flows the pure fountain of sincere deh'ghts ; 
" Averse to her, you waste the joyless hours ; 

"^ Sleep drowns thy days, and riot rules thy nights. 
'^ Immortal tho' thou art, indignant Jove 

'' Hurl'd thee from Heaven, th' immortal blissful place, 
*''^ For ever banish'd from the realms above, 

" To dwell on earth with man's degenerate race : 
'' Fitter abode ! on earth alike disgrac'd ; 
'^ Rejected by the wise, and by the fool embrac'd. 

"Fond wretch, that vainly weenest all delight 

'^ To gratify the sense, reserv'd for thee ! 
" Yet the most pleasing object to the sight, 

" Thine own fair action, never didst thou see. 
" Tho' lull'd with softest sounds thou liest along, 

" Soft music, warbling voices, melting lays; 
" Ne'er didst thou hear, more sweet than sweetest song, 

'^ Charming the soul, thou ne'er didst hear thy praise ! 
<f No— to thy revels let the fool repair ; 
*' To such go smooth thy speech, and spread thy tempt- 
ing snare. 

" Vast happiness enjoy thy gay allies ! 

" A youth of follies, an old age of cares ; 
*' Young yet enervate, old yet never wise, 

" Vice wastes their vigour, and their mind impairs. 
" Vain, idle, delicate, in thoughtless ease, 

*' Reserving woes for age, their prime they spend ; 
" All wretched, hopeless, in the evil days, 

" With sorrow to tHe verge of life they tend. 
" Griev'd with the present, of the past ashara'd, 
" They live and are despis'd ; they die, nor more are 
n^m'd. 

*' But with the gods, and godlike men, I dwell ; 

'^ Me, his supreme delight, th' Almighty Sire 
*' Regards well jileas'd : whatever works excel, 

" All, or divine or human, I inspire. 
" Counsel with strengtii, and industry with art, 

" In union meet conjoin'd, with me reside : 
" My dictates arm, instruct, and mend the heart, 

" The surest policy, the wisest guide. 
*^ With me true friendship dwells : she deigns to bind 
" Those generous souls alone whom 1 before had join'd. 

I 



170 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

'^ Nor need my friends the various costly feast ; 

" Hunger to them th' eiFects of art supplies ; 
"' Labour prepares their weary limbs to rest ; 

" Sweet is their sleep ; light, cheerful, strong they rise. 
" Thro' health, thro' joy, thro' pleasure, and renown, 

'' They tread my paths ; and by a soft descent 
" At length to age all gently sinking down, 

^' Look back with transport on a life v/ell spent, 
" In which no hour flew unimprov'd away ; 
" In which some gen'rous deed distinguish'd ev'ry day. 

" And when the destin'd term at length's complete, 

" Their ashes rest ih peace, eternal fame 
'' Sounds wide their praise ; triumphant over fate, 

*^ In sacred song for ever lives their name. 
" This, Hercules, is happiness ! obey 

<( My voice, and live : let thy celestial birth 
" Lift and enlarge thy thoughts : behold the way 

" That leads to fame, and raises thee from earth 
" Immortal ! Lo, I guide thy steps. Arise, 
" Pursue the glorious path, and claim thy native skies." 

Her words breathe fire celestial, and impart 

New vigour to his soul, that sudden caught 
The generous flame : with great intent his heart 

Swells full, and labours with exalted thought. 
The mist of error from his eyes dispell'd. 

Thro' all her fraudful arts, in clearest light. 
Sloth in her native form he now beheld ; 

Unveil'd she stood confess'd before his sight : 
False Siren ! — All her vaunted charms, that shone 
So fresh erewhile and fair, now wither'd, pale, and gone. 

No more the rosy bloom in sweet disguise 

Masks her dissembled looks ; each borrow'd grace 

Leaves her wan cheek ; pale sickness clouds her eyes. 
Livid and sunk, and passions dim her face. 

As when fair Iris has awhile display'd 

Her wat'ry arch, with gaudy painture gay. 

While yet we gaze the glorious colours fade, 
.^And from our wonder gently steal away : 

Where shone the beauteous phantom erst so bright. 

Now low'rs the low-hung cloud, all gloomy to the sight. 



CLASSICAL El^GLISH POETRY. I?! 

But Virtue, more engaging, all the while 

Disclos'd new charms, more lovely, more serene, 
Beaming sweet influence : a milder smile 

Soften'd the terrors of her lofty mien. 
" Lead, goddess ; I am thine !" transported cried 

Alcides ; " O propitious pow'r, tliy way 
*' Teach me ! possess my soul ! be thou my guide : 

" From thee, oh never, never let me stray !" 
While ardent thus the youth his vows address'd. 
With all the goddess fiird, already glow'd his breast. 

The heavenly maid with strength divine endu'd 

His daring soul ; there all her pow'rs combin'd : 
Firm constancy, undaunted fortitude, 

Enduring patience, arm'd his mighty mind. 
Unmov'd in toils, in dangers undismay'd, 

By many a hardy deed and bold emprize. 
From fiercest monsters, thro' her powerful aid. 

He freed the earth ! thro' her he gain'd, the skies. 
'Twas virtue plac'd hira in the blest abode ; 
Crov/n'd with eternal youth, among the gods a god. 

LOWTK. 

THE FALLEN LEAF. 

SEE the leaves around us falling. 

Dry and w^ither'd to the ground I 
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling 

With a sad and solemn sound — 

^' Sons of Adam — once in Eden, 

Blighted when like us you fell. 
Hear the lecture we are reading, 

'Tis, alas ! the truth w^e tell ; 

Virgins ! much, too much presuming. 

On your boasted white and red. 
View us late in beauty blooming, 

Number'd now among the dead. 

Griping Misers! nightly waking. 

See the end of all your care. 
Fled on wings of our own making, 

We have left our owners bare ; 

Sons of Honour ! fed on praises, 

Flutt'ring high on fancied worth, 
Lo ! the fickle air that raises 

Brings us down to parent Earth ; 

12 



172 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Learned Sophs; in systems jaded. 

Who for new ones daily call, 
Cease at length, by us persuaded, 

Every leaf must have a fall ; 

Youths! tho* yet no losses grieve you. 

Gay in health and manly grace, 
Let not cloudless skies deceive you. 

Summer gives to Autumn place ; 

Venerable Sires ! grown hoary. 

Hither turn th' unwilling eye. 
Think, amidst your falling glory. 

Autumn tells a Winter nigh ; 

Yearly in our course returning, ; 

Messengers of shortest stay. 
Thus we preach this truth unerring, 

Heav'n and Earth shall pass away ! 

On the Tree of Life Eternal, 

Man ! let all thy hopes be staid. 
Which alone, for ever vernal. 

Bears a leaf which ne'er shall fade I" horne. 



LIFE. 

LET not the young my precepts shun ; 
Who slight good counsels are undone. 
W^e'U talk of Life, tho' much I fear 
Th' ungrateful tale will wound your ear. 
You raise your sanguine thoughts too high. 
And hardly know the reason why : 
But say Life's tree bears golden fruit. 
Some canker shall corrode the root ! 
Some unexpected storm shall rise. 
Or scorching suns, or cliilling skies ; 
And (if experienced truths avail) 
All your autumnal hopes shall fail. 

" But, Poet, whence such wide extremes ? 
" Well may you style your labours dreams. 
"^ A son of sorrow thou, I ween, 
*^ Whose visions are the brats of Spleen. 
'• Is bliss a vague, unmeaning name > 
*' Speak then the passions' use or aim : ' 
** Why rage desires without control, 
" And rouse such whirlwinds in the soul; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 173 

" Why Hope erects her tow'ring crest, 

" And laughs and riots in the breast. 

*' Think not my weaker brain turns round ; 

" Think not I tread on fairy ground ; 

" Think not your pulse alone beats true— 

" Mine makes as healthful music too. 

" Our joys, when Life's soft spring we trace, 

" Put forth their early buds apace. 

" See the bloom loads the tender shoot ; 

" The bloom conceals tlie future fruit. 

" Yes, manhood's warm meridian sun 

" Shall ripen what in Spring begun, 

" Thus infant roses, ere they blow, 

'' In germinating clusters grow ; 

'' And only wait the summer's ray, 

" To burst and blossom to the day." 

What said the gay unthinking boy ? 
Methought Hilario talk'd of joy ! 
Tell, if thou canst, whence joys arise. 
Or what those mighty joys you prize. 
You'll find (and trust superior years) 
The vale of life a vale of tears. 
Could wisdom teach where joys abound. 
Or riches purchase them when found, 
W^ould sceptred Solomon complain 
That all was fleeting, false, and vain ? 
Yet sceptred Solomon could say, 
Retm'ning clouds obscur'd his day. 
Those maxims which the preacher drew. 
The royal sage experienc'd true. 
He knew the various ills that wait 
Our infant and meridian state; 
That toys our earliest thoughts engage. 
And diff 'rent toys maturer age ; 
That grief at ev'ry stage appears. 
But diflf'rent griefs at diifrent years ; 
That vanity is seen, in part, 
Inscrib'd on ev'ry human heart ; 
In the child's breast the spark began, 
Grows with his growth, and glares in man. 
But when in life we journey late. 
If follies die, do griefs abate ? 

Ah ! what is life at fourscore years ? [tears I 

One dark, rough road, of sighs, groans, pains, and 

IS 



174 CLASSIGAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Perhaps you'll think I act the same, 
As a sly sharper plays his game : 
You triumph ev'iy deal that's past. 
He's sure to triumph at the last ; 
Who often wins some thousands more 
Than twice the sums you won before. 
But I'm a loser with the rest ; 
For life is all a deal at best. 
Where not the prize of wealth or fame 
Repays the trouble of the game — 
(A truth no winner e'er denied. 
An hour before that winner died.) 
Nor that with me these prizes shine ; 
For neither fame nor wealth is mine. 
My cards, a weak plebeian band. 
With scarce an honour in my hand ! 
And, since my trumps are very few. 
What have I more to boast than you? 
Nor am I gainer by your fall ; 
That harlot Fortune bubbles all ! 
'Tis truth (receive it ill or well,) 
'Tis melancholy truth I tell. 
Why should the preacher take your pence. 
And smother truth to flatter sense ? 
I'm sure physicians have no merit. 
Who kill thro' lenity of spirit. 

That life's a game, divines confess ; 
This says at cards, and that at chess : 
But, if our views be centered here, 
'Tis all a losing game, I fear. 
Sailors, you know, when wars obtain, \ 
And hostile vessels crowd the main; 
If they discover from afar 
A bark as distant as a star. 
Hold thg perspective to their eyes. 
To learn its colours, strength, and size | 
And, when this secret once they know. 
Make ready to receive the foe. 
Let you and I from sailors learn 
Important truths of like concern. 

T clos'd the day, as custom led. 
With reading, till the time of bed; 
Where Fancy, at the midnight hour. 
Again display 'd her magic pow'r— 



_^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 175 

(For know that Fancy, like a sprite, 
Prefers the silent scenes of night.) 
She lodg'd me in a neighb'ring wood, 
No matter where the thicket stood ; 
The genius of the place was nigh. 
And held t\to pictures to my eye. 
The curious painter had pourtray'd 
Life in each just and genuine shade. 
They who have only known its dawn. 
May think these lines too deeply drawn ; 
But riper years, I fear, will shew 
The wiser artists paint too true. 

One piece presents a rueful wild. 
Where not a summer's sun had smil'd : 
The road with thorns is cover'd wide. 
And Grief sits weeping by the side ; 
Her tears with constant tenour flow. 
And form a mournful lake below ; 
Whose silent waters, dark and deep. 
Thro* all the gloomy valley creep. 

Passions that flatter, or that slay. 
Are beasts that fawn, or birds that prey: 
Here Vice assumes the serpent's shape ; 
There Folly personates the ape : 
Here Av'rice gripes with hai-py's claws ; 
There Malice grins with tiger's jaws : 
While sons of Mischief, Art, and Guile, 
Are alligators of the Nile. 

E'en Pleasure acts a treach'rous part, 
She chaims the sense, but stings the heart : 
And when she gulls us of our wealth. 
Or that superior pearl, our health. 
Restores us nought but pain and woe. 
And drowns us in the lake below. 

There a commission'd angel stands. 
With desolation in his hands ! 
He sends the all-devouring flame. 
And cities hardly boast a name : 
Or wings the pestilential blast. 
And, lo ! ten thousands breathe their last. 
He speaks — obedient tempests roar, 
And guilty nations are no more : 
He speaks — the fury Discord raves, 
And sweeps whole armies to their graves . 

14 



1 76 timSSICAl- EN01.1SH POETRY. 

Or Famine lifts her miklew'd hand, 
And Hunger howls thro' all the land. 

'^ Oh i what a wretch is man !" I cned ; 
" Expos'd to death on ev'ry side ! 
*' And sure as born^ to be undone 
*' By evils which he cannot shui^ ! 
"Besides a thousand baits to sin, 
" A thousand traitors lodg'd within ! 
" For soon as Vice assaults the heart, 
'' The rebels take the demon's part." 

I sigh, my aching bosom bleeds ; 
When straight the milder plan succeeds. 
The lake of tears, the dreary shore. 
The same as in the piece before : 
But gleams of light are here display'd. 
To cheer the eye, and gild the shade ; 
Affliction speaks a softer style. 
And Disappointment wears a smile: 
A group of virtues blossom near ; 
Their roots improve by ev'ry tear. 

Here Patience, gentle maid ! is nigh. 
To calm the storm, and wipe the eye : 
Hope acts the kind physician's pait. 
And warms the solitary heart : 
Religion nobler comfort brings. 
Disarms our griefs, or blunts their stings ; 
Points out the balance on the whole. 
And Heaven rewards the struggling soul. 

COTTON. 



THE LAUREL AND THE REED. 

THE Reed that once the shepherd blew. 
On old Cephisus' hallow'd side. 
To Sylla's cruel bow apply'd. 

Its inoffensive master slew. 

Stay, bloody soldier, stay thy hand. 
Nor take the shepherd's gentle breath : 

Thy rage let innocence withstand : 
Let music soothe the thirst of Death. 

He frown'd — he bade the arrow fly — 
The arrow smote the tuneful swain ; 

No more its tone his lip shall try. 
Nor wake its vocal soul again. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRV. 17f 

Cephisus, from his sedgy urn. 

With woe beheld the sanguine deed : 

He mourn'd, and as they heard him moum. 
Assenting s!gh'd each trembhng Reed. 

" Fair offspring of my waves/' he cry'd ; 

" That bind my brows, my banks adorn ; 
" Pride of the plains, the rivers' pride, 

*' For rausie, peace, and beauty, bom ! 

" Ah ! what unheedful have we done ? 

" What demons here in death delight ? 
" What fiends that curse the social sun ? 

" What furies of infernal night ? 

'* See, see, my peaceful shepherds bleed ! 

** Each heart in harmony that vy'd ; 
" Smote by its own melodious Reed, 

'' Lies cold along my blushing side. 

" Back to your um, my waters, fly ; 

" Or find in earth some secret way ; 
'' For horror dims yon conscious sky, 

" And hell has issu'd into day." 

Thro' Delphi's holy depth of shade 

The sympathetic sorrows rcn ; 
While in his dim and mournful glade 

The genius of her groves began : 

'' In vain Cephisus sighs to save, 

" The swain that loves his watery mead, 

" And weeps to see his reddening wave, 
" And mourns for his perverted Reed : 

" In vain my violated groves 

" Must I with equal grief bewail, 
" While Desolation sternly roves, 

" And bids the sanguine hand assail. 

" God of the genial stream, behold 
" My laurel shades of leaves so bare ! 

" Those leaves no poet's brows enfold, 
" Nor bind Apollo's golden hair. 

" Like thy fair offspring, misapply'd, 

" Far other purpose they supply ; 
** The murderer's burning cheek to hide, 

'' And on his frownful temples die. 

15 



178 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

" Yet deem not these of Pluto's race, 
" Whom wounded Nature sues in vain ; 

" Pluto disclaims the dire disgrace, - 

" And cries indignant — They are men." 

LANGHGRNE. 



LESSONS OF WISDOK. 

HOW to live happiest; how avoid the pains, 
The disappointments, and disgusts of those 
Who would in pleasure all their hours employ ; 
The precepts here of a divine old man 
I could recite. Tho' old, he still retain'd 
His manly sense, and energy of mind. 
Virtuous and wise he was, but not sevei'e ; 
He still remember'd that he once was young ; 
His easy presence checked no decent joy. 
Him ev'n the dissolute admir'd ; for he 
A graceful looseness when he pleas'd put on, 
And laughing could instruct. Much had he read, 
Much more had seen ; he studied from the life, 
And in th' original perus'd mankind. 

Vers'd in the woes and vanities of life. 
He pitied man ; and much he pitied those 
Whom falsely-smiling Fate has curs'd with means 
To dissipate their days in quest of joy. 
Our aim is happiness : 'tis yours, 'tis mine. 
He said, 'tis the pursuit of all that live ; 
Yet few attain it, if 'twas e'er attain'd. 
But they the widest wander from the mark. 
Who thro' the flow'ry paths of saunt'ring Joy 
Seek this coy goddess ; that from stage to stage 
Invites us still, but shifts as we pursue. 
For, not to name the pains that pleasure brings 
To counterpoise itself, relentless Fate 
Forbids that we thro' gay voluptuous wilds 
Should ever roam : and were the Fates more kind. 
Our narrow luxuries would soon be stale. 
Were these exhaustless, Nature would grow sick, 
And, cloy'd with pleasure, squeamishly complain 
That all was vanity, and life a dream. 
Let Nature rest : be busy for yourself, 
And for your friend; be busy ev'n in vain, -^ ^ - 
Rather th^n tease her sated appetites : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 179 

Who never fasts, no banquet e'er enjoys ; 
Who never toils or watches, never sleeps. 
Let Nature rest: and when the taste of joy 
Grows keen, indulge ; but shun satiety. 

'Tis not for mortals always to be blest. 
But him the least the dull or painful hours 
Of life oppress, whom sober sense conducts. 
And Virtue, thro' this labyrinth we tread. 
Virtue and Sense I mean not to disjoin ; 
Virtue and Sense are one : and, trust me, he 
Who has not Virtue, is not truly wise. 
Virtue (for mere Good-nature is a fool) 
Is sense and spirit, with humanity : 
*Tis sometimes angry, and its frown confounds ; 
'Tis ev'n vindictive, but in vengeance just. 
Knaves fain would laugh at it ; some great ones darej 
But at his heart the most undaunted son 
Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms. 
To noblest uses this determines wealth: 
This is the solid pomp of prosperous days. 
The peace and shelter of adversity. 
And if you pant for glory, build your fame 
On this foundation, which the secret shock 
Defies of Envy and all-sapping Time. 
The gaudy gloss of Fortune only strikes 
The vulgar eye : the suffrage of the wise. 
The praise that's worth ambition, is attain'd 
By sense alone, and dignity of mind. 

Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul. 
Is the best gift of Heaven : a happiness 
That ev'n above the smiles and frowns of fate 
Exalts great Nature's favourites : a wealdi 
That ne'er encumbers, nor to baser hands 
Can be transferr'd : it is the only good 
Man justly boasts of, or can call his own. 
Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earn'd ; 
Or dealt by chance to shield a lucky knave, 
Or throw a cruel sunshine on a fool. 
But for one end, one much-neglected use. 
Are riches worth your care (for Nature's wants 
Are few, and without opulence supplied)— 
This noble end is, to produce the soul. 
To show the virtues in their fairest light; 
To make Humanity the minister 

16 ^ 



ISO CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Of bounteous Providence ! and teach tlie breast 

That generous luxury the gods enjoy, 

Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly sage 
Sometimes declaim'd. Of right and wrong he taught 
Truths as refin d as ever Athens heard : 
And (strange to tell !) he practis'd what he preach'dv 

ARMSTRONG-. 



PHOSPECT OF SOCIETY. 

COULD Nature's bounty satisfy the breast. 
The sons of Italy were surely blest. 
Whatever fruits in different climes are found. 
That proudly rise, or humbly court the ground : 
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear. 
Whose bright succession decks the varied year ; 
Whatever sweets salute the northei-n sky 
V/ith vernal lives, that blossom but to die : 
These, here disporting, own the kindred soil. 
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil ; 
While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand. 
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land. 

But small the bliss that sense alone bestows, 
And sensual biis§ is all the nation knows. 
In florid beauty groves and fields appeal', 
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here. 
Contrasted faults through all his manners reign : 
Though poor, luxurious ; though submissive, vain ; 
Though grave, yet trifling ; zealous, yet untrue ; 
And e'en in penance planning sins anew. 
All evils here contaminate the mind, 
That opulence depaited leaves behind. 

My soul, turn from them — turn we to survey 
Where rougher climes a nobler race display ; 
Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mans'on tread. 
And force a churlish soil for scanty bread : 
No product here the barren hills afford 
But man and steel, the soldier and his sword. 
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks aivay, ^ 
But Winter lingVing chills the lap of May ; 
No Zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast. 
But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest. 

Yet still e'en here Content can spread a charm. 
Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 181 

Tho' poor the peasant's hut, his feast the' small. 
He sees his little lot the lot of all ; 
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head. 
To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; 
No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, 
To make him loath his vegetable meal ; 
But calm, and bred m ignorance and toil. 
Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil. 

To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, 
I turn — and France displays her bright domain. 
Gay sprightly land of mirth and social ease, 
Pleas'd with thyself, whom all the world can please ; 
How often have I led thy sportive choir, 
With tuneless pipe, beside the murm'ring Loire ! 
Where shading elms along the margin grew. 
And, freshen'd from the wave, the Zephyr flew ; 
And haply, tho' my harsh touch fal'tring still. 
But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill ; 
Yet would the village praise my wondrous pow'r. 
And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour ! 
Alike all ages: dames of ancient days 
Have led their children thro' the mirthful maze ; 
And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore. 
Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore. 

But while this softer art their bliss supplies. 
It gives their follies also room to rise ; 
For praise too dearly lov'd, or warmly sought, 
Enfeebles all internal strength of thought ; 
And the weak soul, within itself unblest. 
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast. 
Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art. 
Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart : 
Here vanity assumes her pert grimace. 
And trims her robes of frieze with copper-lace ; 
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer. 
To boast one splendid banquet once a year ; 
The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws. 
Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause. 

To men of other minds my Fancy flies, 
Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. 
Methinks her patient sons before me stand. 
Where the broad ocean leans against the land ; 
And, sedulous to stop the coming' tide. 
Lift the tali rampii-e's artificial pride. 



182 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Industrious habits in each bosom reign, T 

And industry begets a love of gain. 

Hence all the good from opulence that springs. 

With all those ills superfluous treasure brings. 

Are here displayed. Their much-lov'd wealth impar^. 

Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts ; 

But, view them closer, craft and fraud appear ; 

E'en liberty itself is bartered here ! 

At gold's superior charms all freedom flies ; 

The needy sell it, and the rich man buys ; 

A land of t3rrants, and a den of slaves. 

Here wretches seek dishonourable graves. 

And, calmly bent, to servitude conform. 

Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm. 

Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old [ 
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; 
War in each breast, and freedom on each brow ; 
How much imlike the sons of Britain now ! 

Fir'd at the sound, my Genius spreads her wing, 
And flies where Britain courts the western spring ; 
Where lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride. 
And brighter streams that fam'd Hydaspes glide : 
There all around the gentlest breezes stray. 
There gentle music melts on ev'ry spray ; 
Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd ; 
Extremes are only in the master's mind ! 
Stem o'er each bosom Reason holds her state, 
With daring aims irregularly great : 
Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, 
I see the lords of human-kind pass by ; 
Intent on high designs, a thoughtful band. 
By forms unfashion'd, fresh from Nature's hand ; 
Fierce in their native hardiness of soul. 
True to imagin'd right, above control : 
While e'en the peasant boasts these rights to scan. 
And learns to venerate himself as man. 
^ Thine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictur'd here, 
Thine ai*e those charms, that dazzle and endear. 

GOLDSMITH. 



DOMESTIC HAPPINESS. 



" HOME'S home, however homely," Wisdom says, 
And certain is the fact, tho' coarse the phrase ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY* IBS 

To prove it, if it need a proof at all, if gfifth^^?; i 

Mark what a train attends the Muse's call. 
And as he leads the ideal group along. 
Let your own feelings resize the song ! 

Clear then the stage, no scenery we require. 
Save the snug circle round her parlour fire. 
And enter marshall'd in procession fair. 
Each happier influence that predominates there. 

li'irst Love by Friendship mellow'd into bliss. 
Lights the glad glow and sanctifies the kiss, 
When fondly welcom'd to tli' accustom'd seat. 
In sweet complacence wife and husband meet. 
Look mutual pleasure, mutual purpose share. 
Repose from labours, but unite in care. 

Ambition— does Ambition there reside ? 
Yes ! when the Boy in manly mood astride, 
Of headstrong prowess innocently vain. 
Canter's the jockey of his father's cane ! 
While Emulation in the Daughter's heart. 
Bears a more mild tho* not less powerful part. 
With zeal to shine her fluttering bosom warms. 
And in the romp the future house- wife forms ! 
Or both perchance, to graver spoii; incline, 
And Art and Genius in the pastime join, 
This the cramp riddle's puzzling knot invents. 
That rears aloft the card-built tenements. 

Think how Joy animates, intense tho' meek, 
The fading roses on their Grandame's cheek, 
When proud the frolic progeny to survey 
She feels and owns an interest in their play. 
Adopts each wish their wayward whims unfold, 
And tells at every call the story ^ — ten times told ; 

Good-humour'd dignity endears meanwhile 
The narrative Grandsire's venerable style. 
If happy feats achiev'd in prime of youth. 
Or pristine anecdote, or historic truth. 
Or maxim shrewd, or admonition bland. 
Affectionate Attention's ear command. 

To such society, so form'd, so bless'd. 
Time — Thought — -Remembrance— all impart a zest. 
And expectation day by day more bright. 
Round every prospect throws increasing light. 



184» CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The simplest comforts act with greatest force, 
Whate'er can give them — can improve of course. 

All this is common- place you'll tell me-— ti'ue ! 

What pity 'tis not common fashion too ! 

Roam as we will, plain sense at last will find 

'Tis only seeking — what we left behind ! 

If individual good engage our hope. 

Domestic virtues give the largest scope, 

If plans of public eminence we trace. 

Domestic Virtues are its surest base! bishop. 



ENGLISH LIBERTY. 

'Tis Liberty alone that gives the fiow'r 

Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume. 

And we are weeds without it. All constraint, 

Except what wisdom lays on evil men, 

Is evil : hurts the faculties, impedes 

Their progress in the road of science ; blinds 

The eye-sight of discov'ry, and begets 

In those that suffer it a sordid mind 

Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit 

To be the tenant of man's noble form. 

Thee, therefore, still blameworthy as thou art, 

With all thy loss of empire, and though squeez't 

By public exigence, till annual food 

Fails for the craving hunger of the state ; 

Thee I account still happy, and the chief 

Among the nations, seeing thou art free. 

My native nook of earth ! Thy clime is rude, 

Replete with vapours, and disposes much 

All hearts to sadness, and none more than mine ; 

Thine unadult'rate manners are less soft 

And plausible than social life requires. 

And thou hast need of discipline and art 

To give thee what politer France receives 

From Nature's bounty — that humane address 

And sweetness, without which no pleasure is 

In converse ; either starv'd by cold reserve. 

Or flush'd with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl ; 

Yet, being free, I love thee : for the sake 

Of that one feature, can be well content, 

Disgrac'd as thou hast been, poor as thou art. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETBY. 185 

To seek no sublunary rest beside. 

Butj once enslav'd, farewell ! I could endure 

Chains no where patiently ; and chains at home. 

Where I am free by birthright, not at all. 

Then what were left of roughness in the grain 

Of British natures, wanting its excuse 

That it belongs to freemen, would disgust 

And shock me. I should then with double pain 

Feel ail the rigour of thy fickle clime ; 

And if I must bewail the blessing lost 

For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled; 

I would at least bewail it under skies 

Milder, among a people less austere. 

In scenes which, having never known me free. 

Would not reproach me with the loss I felt. cowp5;k- 



■/■ ' ■ ■ 

PICTURE of A VILLAGE LIFE. 

SWEET Aubtim ! loveliest village of the plain. 

Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain ; 

Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid. 

And parting summer's ling'ring blooms delay'd ; 

Dear lovely bow'rs of innocence and ease. 

Seats of my youth, when ev'ry sport could please ; 

How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green. 

Where humble happiness endear'd each scene ! 

How often have I paus'd on ev'ry charm. 

The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm ; 

The never-failing brook, the busy mill. 

The decent church that topp'd the neighb'ring hill ; 

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade. 

For talking age, and whisp'ring lovers made ! 

How often have I bless'd the coming day. 

When toil remitting lent its turn to play ; 

And all the village train, from labour free. 

Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree ; 

While many a pastime circled in the shade. 

The young contending as the old survey'd ; 

And many a gambol frolic'd o'er the ground, ^ 

And sleights of art, and feats of strength went round. 

And still, as each repeated pleasure tir'd. 

Succeeding sports the mirthful band mspir'd : 

The dancing pair that simply sought renown. 

By holding out to tire each other down ; 



186 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The swain, mistrustless of his smutted face. 

While secret laughter titter'd round the place ; 

The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, 

The matron's glance that would those looks reprove— 

These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like these, 

With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please. 

Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's close. 
Up yonder hill the village muraiur rose ; 
There as T pass'd, with careless steps and slow. 
The mingling notes came soften'd from below ; 
The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung. 
The sober herd that low'd to meet their young; 
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool. 
The playful children just let loose from school ; 
The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring wind. 
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; 
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade. 
And filled each pause the nightingale had made. 

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd. 
And still where many a garden fiow'r grows wild. 
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose. 
The village preacher's modest mansion rose. 
A man he was to all the country dear. 
And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; 
Remote from towns he ran his godly race. 
Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change, his place ; 
Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for pow'r. 
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour ; 
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize. 
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. 
His house was known to all the vagraiit train ; 
He chid their wand'rings, but reliev'd their pain. 
The long-remember'd beggar was his guest. 
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; 
The ruin'd spendthrift now no longer proud, 
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims alJow'd ; 
The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay. 
Sat by his fire, and talk'd the night away ; 
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, 
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were v/on. 
Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow. 
And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 
Careless their merits or their faults to scan. 
His Pity gave ere Charity began. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 187 

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride. 
And ev'n his failings lean'd to Virtue's side ; 
Butj in his duty prompt at ev'ry call. 
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all. 
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries. 
To tempt her new-fledg'd offspring to the skies ; 
He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, 
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way. 

Beside the bed where parting life was laid. 
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay 'd^ 
The rev'rend champion stood. At his control 
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; 
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise. 
And his last falt'ring accents whisper'd praise. 

At church, with meek and unaffected grace. 
His looks adom'd the venerable place ; 
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway ; 
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. 
The service past, around the pious man. 
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
Ev'n children foUow'd with endearing wile. 
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile. 
His ready smile a parent's warmth express'd. 
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distress'd ; 
To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given. 
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 
As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form. 
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm ; 
Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread. 
Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, 
With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay. 
There, in his noisy mansion skill'd to rule. 
The village master taught his little school; 
A man severe he was, and stern to view ; 
I knew him well, and every truant knew. 
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace 
The day's disasters in his morning's face ; 
Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee 
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 
Full well the busy whisper circling round 
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd : 
Yet he was kind ; or, if severe in aught. 
The love he bore to learning was in fault ; 



188 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The village. all declar'd how much he knew ; 
'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too ; 
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage. 
And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge ; 
In arguing too, the parson own'd his skill, 
For ev'n, though vanquish'd, he could argue still ; 
While words of learned length, and thund'ring sound, 
Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around ; 
And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew. 
That one small head could carry all he knev»'. 
But past is all his fame : the very spot 
Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot 

Near yonder thorn that Hfts its head on high, 
Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye. 
Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspir'd. 
Where gray-beard mirth and smiling toil retir'd ; 
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound. 
And news much older than their ale went round. 
Imagination fondly stoops to trace 
The parlour splendours of that festive place ; 
The white- wash'd wall, the nicely-sanded floor. 
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door i 
The chest, contriv'd a double debt to pay, 
A bed by night, a chest of draw'rs by day ; 
The pictures plac'd for ornament and use. 
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; 
The hearth, except when Winter chill'd the day. 
With aspen boughs, and flow'rs, and fennel, gay ; 
While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, 
Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row. 

Yes I let the rich deride, the proud disdain. 
These simple blessings of the lowly train : 
To me more dear, congenial to my heart. 
One native charm, than all the gloss of art ; 
Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play. 
The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway ; 
lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, 
Unenvied, unmolested, unconfin'd : 
But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade. 
With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd. 
In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain. 
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ; 
And, ev'n while fashion's brightest arts decoy. 
The heart distrusting asks— If this be joy ? 

GOLDSMITH. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 1^9 

THE BARD : AN ODE. 
I. 1. 

' RUIN seize thee, ruthless king ! 

' Confusion on thy banners wait ! 

' Tho', fann'd by conquest's crimson wing, 

' They mock the air with idle state ! 

^ Helm nor Hauberk's twisted mail, ' , 

* Nor ev'n thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail 

' To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, 
'From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!' 
Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride 
Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay. 
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side 
He wound with toilsome march his long array. 
Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance : 
To arms ! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his qui v'ring lance. 

I. 2. 
On a rock whose haughty brow 
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, 
Rob'd in the sable garb of woe. 
With haggard eyes the poet stood ; 
(Loose his beard, and hoary hair, 
Stream'd like a meteor, to the troubled air ;) 
And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire, 
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 

* Hark, how each giant-oak and desert cave 

* Sigh to the torrent's awful voice beneath ! 

' O'er thee, O king ! their hundred arms they wave, 
' Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; 
' Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, 

* To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay. 

L 3. 

* Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, 

* That hush'd the stormy main : 

' Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed 

' Mountains, ye mourn in vain 

' Modred, whose magic song 

' Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topp'd head, 

' On dreary Arvon's shore they lie, 

* Smear'd with gore, and ghastly pale ; 

' Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail; 
' The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. 



190 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

' Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, 

' Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, 

' Dear as the ruddy drops that warm'd my heart, 

' Ye died amidst your dying country's cries.— 

' No more I weep. They do not sleep. 

' On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, 

' I see them sit : they linger yet, 

' Avengers of their native land : 

* With me in dreadful hai-mony they join, 

' And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. 

II. 1. 

" Weave the warp, and weave the woof, 
'' The winding-sheet of Edward's race. 
" Give ample room, and verge enough 
" The characters of hell to trace. 
" Mark the year, and mark the night, 
<* When Severn shall re-echo with affright ; 
" The shrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roofs that ring ; 
" Shrieks of an agonizing king ! 
" She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, 
" That tear*st the bowels of thy mangled mate, 
*"' From thee be bora who o'er thy country hangs 
^' The scourge of Heaven. What terrors round him wait! 
'' Amazement in his van with flight combin'd, 
" And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude, behind. 



II. 2. 

" Mighty Victor, mighty Lord, 
'^ Low on his fun'ral couch he lies ! 
" No pitying heart, no eye, afford 
" A tear to grace his obsequies. 
" Is the sable warrior fled ? 
'' Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. 
*' The swarm that in thy noon-tide beam were born, 
" Gone to salute the rising morn. 
" Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, 
"^ While, proudly riding o'er the azure realm, 
•' In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes ; 
*' Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm ; 
" Regardless of the sweeping whirl v/ind's sway, 
" That hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. IQl 

II. 3. 

" Fill high the sparkling bowl, 
" The rich repast prepare, 
*' Reft of a crown he yet may share the feast : 
" Close by the regal chair 
" Fell Thirst and Famine scowl 
*' A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. 
" Heard ye the din of battle bray, 
** Lance to lance, and horse to horse ? 
" Long years of havoc urge their destin'd course, 
" And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way. 
" Ye tow'rs of Julius, London's lasting shatne, 
" With many a foul and midnight murder fed, 
" Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame, 
" And spare the meek usurper's holy head. 
" Above, below, the rose of snow, 
'^ Twin'd with her blushing foe, we spread ! 
'" The bristled boar in infant gore 
" Wallows beneath the thorny shade. 
"'^ Now, Brothers, bending o'er th' accursed loom, 
'•^ Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 

IIL 1. 

«' Edward, lo ! to sudden fate 
'' (Weave we the woof! The thread is spun.) 
" Half thy heart we consecrate. 
" (The web is wove. The work is done.)" — 
' Stay, oh stay ! nor thus forlorn, 
' Leave me unblest, unpitied, here to mourn : 
' In yon bright track that fires the western skies, 
' They melt, they vanish from my eyes. 
' But oh ! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height 

* Descending slow, their glitt'ring skirts unroll ! 
' Visions of glory, spare my aching sight ! 

* Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul ! 

' No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail. 

' All hail, ye genuine kings ! Britannia's issue hail ! 

III. S. 

* Girt with many a baron bold, 
' Sublime their starry fronts they rear ; 
' And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old 
' In bearded majesty appear. 



192 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

' In the midst a fonn divine ! 

* Her eye proclaims her of the British line ; 

* Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face, 
' Attemper'd sweet to virgin grace. 

* What strings symphonious tremble in the air ! 

' What strains of vocal transport round her play ! 
' H§ar from the grave, great Taliessin, hear ; 
•" They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. 

* Bright Rapture calls, and, soaring as she sings, 

* Waves in the eye of Heaven hermany-colour'd wings. 

III. 3. 
' The verse adorn again 
' Fierce War, and faithful Love, 
' And Truth severe by fairy Fiction dress'd. 
' In buskin'd measures move 
' Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, 

* With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast 
< A voice, as of the cherub-choir, 

* Gales from blooming Eden bear, 

' And distant warblings lessen on my ear, 
' That lost in long futurity expire. 
' Fond impious man ! think'st Ihou yon sanguine cloudy 
' Rais'd by thy breath, lias quench'd the orb of day ? 
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood, 

* And warms the nations with redoubled ray. — 

* Enough for ine : with joy I see 

* The diflfrent doom our fates assign. 

' Be thine Despair, and sceptred Care ; 

' To triumph, and to die, are mine.* 

He spoke ; and, headlong from the mountain's height. 

Deep in the roaring tide he plung'd to endless night. 

GRAY. 

PEACE. 

AH ! when shall Reason's intellectual ray. 
Shed o'er the moral world more perfect day > 
When shall that gloomy world appear no more 
A waste where desolating tempests roar > — ■ 
Where savage Discord howls in threat'ning form, 
And wild Ambition leads the madd'ning storm. 
Where hideous Carnage marks his dang'rous way. 
And where the screaming Vulture scents his prey ? 
Ah ! come, blest Concord ! chase, with smile serene. 
The hostile passions from the human scene ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POKTR\. !j 

May Glory's lofty path be found afar 
From agonizing groans and crimson war ; 
And may the ardent mind that seeks renown. 
Claim not the Martial but the Civic Crown ! 

H. M. V/ILLIAMS 

HASSAN: OR, THE CAMEL-DRIVER. 

In silent horror o'er the boundless waste 

The driver Hassan with his camels past : 

One cruse of water on his back he bore. 

And his light scrip contain'd a scanty store: 

A fan of painted feathers in his hand, 

To guard his shaded face from scorching sand. 

The sultry sun had gain'd the middle sky. 

And not a tree, and not an herb, was nigh : 

The beasts, with pain, their dusty way pursue. 

Shrill roar'd the winds, and dreary was the view ! 

With desp'rate sorrow wild, th' affrighted man 

Thrice sigh'd, thrice struck his breast, and thus began : 

" Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, 

When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way ! 

" Ah ! little thought I of the blasting wind. 
The thirst, or pinching hunger, that I find ! 
Bethink thee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage, 
When fails this cruse, his unrelenting rage ? 
Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign. 
Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine? 

" Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear 
In all ray griefs a more than equal share ! 
Here, where no springs in murmurs break away. 
Or moss-crown'd fountains mitigate the day ; 
In vain ye hope the green delights to know 
Which plains more blest, or verdant vales, bestow : 
Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands, are found. 
And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around. 
Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, 
Vv'^hen first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way ! 

*' Curst be the gold and silver that persuade 
Weak men to follow far fatiguing trade ! 
The lily peace outshines the silver store, 
And life is dearer than the golden ore : 
Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown. 
To every distant mart and wealthy town. 

K 



IQi CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Full oft we tempt the land, and oft the sea : 
And are we only yet repaid by thee ? 
Ah ! why was ruin so attractive made. 
Or why fond man so easily betray'd ? 
Why heed we not, while mad we haste along. 
The gentle voice of Peace, or Pleasure's song ? 
Or wherefore think the flowery mountain's side. 
The fountain's murmurs, and the valley's pride, 
Why think we these less pleasing to behold. 
Than dreary deserts, if tliey lead to gold? 
Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, 
W^hen first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way ! 

" O cease, my fears ! — all frantic as I go, 
WTien thought creates unnumber'd scenes of woe ; 
What if the Hon in his rage I meet? — 
Oft in the di>st I view his printed feet : 
And, fearful ! oft when Day's decHning light 
Yields her pale empire to the mourner Night, 
By hunger rous'd, he scours the groaning plain. 
Gaunt wolves and sullen tigers in his train : 
Before them Death with shrieks directs their way, 

, Fills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey. 

' Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day. 
When first from Scliiraz' walls I bent my way ! 

" At that dead hour the silent asp shall creep. 
If aught of rest I find upon my sleep ; 
Or some swoln serpent twist his scales around, 
A^nd wake to anguish with a burning wound. 
Thrice happy they, the wise contented poor. 
From lust of wealth, and dread of death, secure! 
They tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find ; 
Peace rules the day, where Reason rules the mind. 
Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day. 
When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way ! 

*' O hapless youth ! for she thy love hath won. 
The tender Zara, will be most undone ! 
Big swell'd ray heart, and own'd the powerful maid, 
Wlien fast she dropt her tears, as thus she said : 
' Farewell the youth whom sighs could not detain, 
' Whom Zara's breaking heart implor'd in vain ! 
* Yet as thou go'st, may every blast arise 
' Weak and unfelt as these rejected sighs ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 194 

' Safe o'er the wild, no perils may'st thou see, ^ 

' No griefs endure, nor weep, false youth, like me,' 

O, let me safely to the fair return. 

Say, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn ; 

O ! let me teach my heart to lose its fears, 

RecaU'd by Wisdom's voice, and Zara's tears." 

He said, and call'd on Heaven to bless the day 
When back to Schiraz' walls he bent his way. 

COLLINS, 



WINTER IN THE ARCTIC CIRCLE. 

FROM frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow. 
From streams which northern winds forbid to flow 
What present shall the Muse to Dorset bring. 
Or how, so near the pole, attempt to sing ? 
The hoary winter here conceals from sight 
All pleasing objects which to verse invite. 
The hills and dales, and the delightful woods. 
The flowery plains, and silver-streaming floods. 
By snow disguis'd, in bright confusion lie, 
And with one dazzling waste fatigue the eye. 

No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring, 
No birds within the desert region sing. 
The ships unmov'd, the boisterous winds defy, 
While rattling chariots o'er the ocean fly. 
The vast Leviathan wants room to play. 
And spouts his waters in the face of day. 
The starving wolves along the main sea prowl. 
And to the moon in icy valleys howl. 
O'er many a shining league the level main 
Here spreads itself into a glassy plain ; 
There solid billows of enormous size, 
Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise. 

And yet, but lately, have I seen, ev'n here. 
The winter in a lovely dress appear. 
Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasur'd snow. 
Or winds begun thro' hazy skies to blow ; 
At evening a keen eastern breeze arose. 
And the descending rain unsuUy'd froze. 
Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew. 
The ruddy morn disclos'd at once to view 
The face of Nature in a rich disguise. 
And brighten'd every object to my eyes : 

K2 



196 CLASSIGiVL ENGLISH H)EfRY. 

For every shrub, and every blade of grass. 

And every pointed thorn, seem'd wrought in glass : 

In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorn show. 

While thro' the ice the crimson berries glow. 

The thick-sprung reeds, which watery marshes yield, 

Seem'd polish'd lances in a hostile field. 

The stag, in limpid currents, with surprise. 

Sees crystal branches on bis forehead rise : 

The spreading oak, the beech, and towering pine, 

Glaz'd over, in the freezing ether shine. 

The frighted birds the rattling branches shun. 

Which v/ave and glitter in the distant sun. 

When, if a sudden gust of wind arise. 
The brittle forest into atoms flies ; 
The crackling wood beneath the tempests bends, 
And in a spangled shower the prospect ends : 
Or, if a southern gale the region warm. 
And by degrees unbind the wintery charm. 
The traveller a miry cou\itry sees. 
And journey's sad beneath the dropping trees : 
Like some deluded peasant. Merlin leads 
Thro' fragrant bowers, and thro' deHcious meads : 
While here enchanted gardens to him rise, 
And airy fabrics there attract his eyes ; 
His wandering feet the magic paths pursue. 
And, while he thinks the fair illusion true. 
The trackless scenes disperse in fluid air. 
And woods, and wilds, and thorny ways appear : 
A tedious road the weary wretch returns. 
And, as he goes, the transient vision mourns. 

PHILIPS. 



CONTENTMENT. 

LOVELY, lasting peace of mind ! 
Sweet delight of human kind ! 
Heavenly born, and bred on high. 
To crown the fav'rites of the sky, 
With more of happiness below. 
Than victors in a triumph know ! 
Whither, oh whither art thou fled, 
To lay thy meek contented head ? 
What happy region does thee please 
To make the seat of calms and ease ? 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. l^J 

Ambition searches all its sphere 5 

Of pomp and state to meet thee there : 
Increasing Avarice would find 
Thy presence in its gold enshrin'd : 
The bold advent'rer ploughs his way 
Thro' rocks amid the foaming sea. 
To gain thy love ; and then perceives 
Thou wert not in the rocks and waves. 

The silent heart with grief assails. 
Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales. 
Sees daisies open, rivers run. 
And seeks, as I have vainly done. 
Amusing thought; but learns to know 
That Solitude's the nurse of woe. 

No real happiness is found 
In trailing purple o'er the ground ; 
Or in a soul exalted high. 
To range the circuit of the sky. 
Converse with stars above, and know 
All Nature in its fornis below : 
The rest it seeks, in seeking dies ; 
And doubts at last for knowledge rise. 

Lovely, lasting peace, appear ; 
This world itself^ if thou art here, 
Is once again with Eden blest, 
And man contains it in his breast. 

'Twas thus, as under shade I stood, 
I sung my wishes to the wood ; 
And, lost in thought, no more perceiv'd 
The branches whisper as they wav'd: 
It seem'd as all the quiet place 
Confess'd the presence of his grace ; 
When thus she spoke: — " Go, rule thy will, 
'' Bid thy wild passions all be still ; 
'' Know God, and bring thy heart to know 
'^ The joys which from Religion flov/ ; 
" When ev'ry grace shall prove its guest, 
" And I'll be tliere to crown the rest." 

Oh ! by yonder mossy seat. 
In my hours of sweet retreat. 
Might I thus my soul employ. 
With sense of gratitude and joy, 



igS CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Rais'd as ancient prophets were. 

In heav'nly vision, praise, and pray'r ; 

Pleasing all men, hurting none, 

Pleas'd and blest with God alone ; 

Then while the gardens take my sight. 

With all the colours of delight ; 

\vhile silver waters glide along. 

To please my ear, and court my song ; 

Til lift my voice, and tune my string. 

And thee, great Source of Nature, sing. 

The sun that walks his airy way. 
To light the world, and give the day ; 
The moDu that shines with borrow'd light ; 
The stains that gild the gloomy night ; 
The seas that ^oll unnumber'd waves ; 
The vrood that spreads its shady leaves ; 
The field whose ears conceal the grain. 
The yellow treasure of the plain : 
All of these, and all I see. 
Should be sung, and sung by me : 
They speak their Maker as they can. 
But want and ask the tongue of man. 

Go, search among your idle dreams, 
Your busy or yqur vain extremes ; 
And find a life of equal bliss. 
Or own the next begun in this. parnell. 



PROGRESS OF TIME. 

INCESSANT down the stream of time. 
And days, and yeai's, and ages roll. 

Speeding thro' Error's iron clime 
To dark Oblivion's goal 

Lost in the gulf of night profound. 

No eye to mark their shadowy bound, 

Unless the deed of high renown. 

The v/arlike chief's illustrious crown. 
Shed o'er the darkling void of dubious fame. 
And gild the passing hour with some immortal name ! 

Yet evanescent as the fleeting cloud 

Driv'n by the wild winds o'er the varying skies, 
Are all the glories of the great and proud. 

On Rumour's idle breath that faintly rise ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 199 

A thousand garbs their forms assume, 

V/oven in vain Conjecture's loom. 

Their dyes a thousand hues display. 

Sporting in Fancy's fairy ray. 

Changing with each uncertain blast, 

Till melting from the eyes at last. 
The shadowy vapours fly before the wind. 
Sink into viewless air, " nor leave a v/reck behind !" 

But if the raptur'd train, whom Heav'n inspires 
Of Glory to record each deathless meed. 

Tune to heroic worth their goldeii lyres. 
And give to Memory each godlike deed; 

Then shall the eternal guerdon wait. 

The actions of the wise and great. 

While as from black Oblivion's sv/ay. 

They bear the mighty name away. 

And waft it, borne on pinion high. 

With joyful carol to the sky ! 

Sage History, with eye severe. 

Tracing aloft their bold career. 
Clears the rich tale from Fiction's spacious grace. 
And builds her sacred lore on Truth's eternal base ! 

P\ E. 



COOPERS HILL. 

SURE there are poets which did never dream 

Upon Parnassus, nor did taste the stream 

Of Helicon ; we therefore may suppose 

Those made not poets, but the poets those ; 

And as courts make not kings, but kings the court, 

80 where the muses and their train resort, 

Parnassus stands ; if I can be to thee 

A poet, thou Parnassus art to me. 

Nor wonder, if advantag'd in my flight, 

By taking wing from thy auspicious height 

Through untrac'd ways and airy paths I fly. 

More boundless in my fancy than my eye ; 

^y ^ye, which swift as thought contracts the space 

That lies between, and first salutes the place 

Crown'd with that sacred pile, so vast, so high. 

That whether 'tis a part of earth or sky 

Uncertain seems, and may be thought a proud 

Aspiring mountain, or descending cloud ; 

K4 



200 CLASSICAL E1^6LlStf FOiTTItY. 

Paul's the late theme of such a Muse*, whose flight 

Has bravely reach'd and soar'd above thy height ; 

Nor shalt though stand, though sword, or time, or fire^ 

Or seal, more fierce than they, thy fall conspire; 

Secure, whilst thee the best of poets sings. 

Preserved from ruin by the best of kings. 

Under his proud survey the city lies. 

And like a mist beneath a hill doth rise. 

Whose state and wealth, the bus'ness and the crowd. 

Seems at this distance but a darker cloud ; 

And is, to him who rightly things esteems. 

No other in effect than what it seems ; 

Where, with like haste, though several ways they run. 

Some to undo, and some to be undone ; 

While luxury and wealth, like war and peace, 

Are each the other's ruin and increase ; 

As rivers lost in seas, some secret vein 

Thence re-conveys, there to be lost again. 

Oh ! happiness of sweet retir'd content ! 

To be at once secure and innocent. 

Windsor the next, where Mars with Venus dwells. 
Beauty with strength, above the valley swells 
Into my eyes, and doth itself present 
With such an easy and unforc'd ascent. 
That no stupendous precipice denies 
Access, no horror turns away our eyes ; 
But such a rise as doth at once invite 
A pleasure and a rev'rence from the sight : 
Thy mighty master's emblem, in whose face 
Sat meekness, heighten'd with majestic grace ; 
Such seems thy gentle height, made only proud 
To be the basis of that pompous load. 
Than which a nobler weight no mountain bears. 
But Atlas only, which supports the spheres. 
When Nature's hand this ground did thus advance, 
'Twas guided by a wiser power than Chance ; 
Mark'd out for such an use, as if 'twere meant 
T' invite the builder, and his choice prevent. 
Nor can we call it choice, when what we choose 
Folly or blindness only could refuse. 
A crown of such majestic towers doth grace 
The god's great mother, when her heav'nly race 

• Waller. 



CaUA^ICAL X^JfaUSH FQIITRy. SOI 

Do homage to her ; yet she cannot boast. 

Among that num'rous and celestial host. 

More heroes than can Windsor ; nor doth Fame's 

Immortal book record more noble names. 

Not to look back so far, to whom this isle 

Owes the first glory of so brave a pile; 

Whether to Caesar, Albanact, or Brute, 

The British Arthur, or the Danish C'nute ; 

(Though this of old no less contest did move 

Than when for Homer's birth seven cities strove. 

Like him in birth, thou shouldst be like in fame. 

As thine his fate, if mine had been his flame;) 

But whosoe'er it was. Nature design'd 

First a brave place, and then as brave a mind. 

Not to recount those sev'ral kings to whom 

It gave a cradle, or to whom a tomb ; 

But thee, great Edward I and thy greater soii**^ 

(The Lilies which his father wore he won.) 

And thy Bellonaf, who the consort came 

Not only to thy bed but to thy fame. 

She to thy triumph led one captive king§, 

And brought that son which did the second § bring ; 

Then did thou found that order (whether love 

Or victory thy royal thoughts did move :) 

Each was a noble cause, and nothing less 

Than the design had been the great success. 

Which foreign kings and emperors esteem 

The second honour to their diadem. 

Had thy great destiny but given thee skill 

To know, as well as pow'r to act, her will. 

That from those kings, who then thy captives were,, 

In aftertimes should spring a royal pair, 

Who should possess all that thy mighty pow'r. 

Or thy desires more mighty, did devour : 

To whom their better fate reserves whate'er 

The victor hopes for, or the vanquish'd fear : 

That blood which thou and thy great grandsire shed. 

And all that since these sister-nations bled. 

Had been unspilt, and happy Edward known 

That all the blood he spilt had been his own. 



• Edward III. and the Black Prince. t Queen PhiUippa. 

' § The kings of France and Scotland. 



K5 



3:02 elASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

VViieii he that patron chose, in whom are join'd 

Soldier and martyr, and his arms confin'd 

Within the azure circle, he did seem 

But to foretel and prophesy of him 

Who to his realms that azure round hath join'd, 

V/hich Nature for their bound at first designed ; 

That bound which to the world's extremest ends. 

Endless itself, its liquid arms extends. 

Nor doth he need those emblems which we paint. 

But is himself the soldier and the saint. 

Here should my wonder dwell, and here my praise ; 

But my fix'd tlioughts my wandering eye betrays. 

Viewing a neighb'ring hill, whose top of late 

A chapel crown'd, till in the common fate 

Th' adjoining abbey fell. (May no such storm 

Fall on our times, where ruin must reform !) 

Tell me, my Muse ! what monstrous dire oifence 

What crime, could any Christian king incense 

To such a rage ? Was't luxury or lust ? 

Was he so temperate, so chaste, so just ? 

Were- these their crimes? they were his own much more ; 

But wealth is crime enough to him that's pooi- ; 

Who having spent the treasures of his crown. 

Condemns their luxury to feed his own ; 

And yet this act, to varnish o'er the shame 

Of sacrilege, must bear devotion's name. 

No crime so bold but would be understood 

A real, or at least, a seeming good. 

Who fears not to do ill, yet fears the name, 

And, free from conscience, is a slave to fame. 

Thus he the church at once protects and spoils ; 

But prince's swords are sharper than their styles; 

And thus to th' ages past he makes amends. 

Their charity destroys, their faith defends. 

Then did religion in a lazy cell. 

In empty airy contemplations dwell. 

And like the block unmoved lay ; but ours. 

As much too active, like the stork devours. 

Is there no temp'rate region can be known 

Betwixt their frigid and our torrid zone ^ 

Could we not wake from that lethargic dream. 

But to be restless in a worse extreme ? 

And for that lethargy was there no cure, 

But to be cast into a calenturg ? 



GLASSiCAL ENGLISH POETRY. ^Q3 

Can knowledge have no bound, but must advance )' 
So far, to make us wish for ignorance. 
And rather in the dark to grope our way 
Than led by a false guide to err by day ? 
Who sees these dismal heaps, but would demand 
What barbarous invader sack'd the land ? 
But when be hears no Goth, no Turk, did bring 
This desolation, but a Christian king 
When nothing but the name of zeal appears 
'Twixt our best actions and the worst of theirs ; 
What does he think our sacrilege would spare. 
When such th' effects of our devotions are ? 
Parting from thence 'twixt anger, shame, and fear, 
Those for what's past, and this for what's too near ; 
My eye descending from the Hill, surveys 
Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays. 
Thames ! the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons. 
By his old sire, to his embraces runs. 
Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea. 
Like mortal life to meet eternity ; 
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold, 
Whose foam his amber, and their gravel gold : 
His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore. 
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore. 
O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing, 
And hatches plenty for the ensuing spring ; 
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,, 
Like mothers w^hich their infants overlay ; 
Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave. 
Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth be gave. 
No unexpected inundations spoil 
The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil ; 
But godlike his vinweary'd bounty flows ; 
First loves to do, then loves the good he does. 
Nor are his blessings to his banks confin'd, 
But free and common as the sea or wind ; 
When he, to boast, or to disperse his stores. 
Full of the tributes of his grateful shores, 
Visits the worla and in his flying tow'rs 
Brings home tc js, and makes both Indies ours : 
Finds wealth v here 'tis, bestows it w'bere it wants> 
Cities in deserts, woods in cities, plants. : i 

So that to us no thing, no place, is strange, ioi baA 
While his fair bosom is the world's exchange. -I s>5 JoS 

K6 



204 .QtASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

O could I flow like thee ! and make thy stream 
My great example^ as it is my theme ; 
Though deep yet clear, though gentle yet not dull ; 
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full. 
Heav'n her Eridanus no more shall boast. 
Whose fame in thine, like lesser current, 's lost : 
Thy nobler streams shall visit .Jove's abodes. 
To shine among the stars,* and bathe the gods. 
Here Nature, whether more intent to please 
Us for herself with strange vai'ieties, 
(For things of wonder give no less delight 
To the wise Maker's than beholder's sight ; 
Though these delights from several causes move. 
For so our children, thus our friends, we love ;) 
Wisely she knew the harmony of things. 
As well as that of sounds, from discord springs. 
Such was the discord which did first disperse 
From order, beauty, through the universe ; 
While dryness, moisture, coldness, heat, resists. 
All that we have, and that we are, subsists ; 
While the steep horrid roughness of the wood 
Strives with the gentle calmness of the flood. 
Such huge extremes when Nature doth unite. 
Wonder from thence results, from thence delight. 
The stream is so transparent, pure, and clear. 
That had the self-enamour'd youth f gaz'd here. 
So fatally deceiv'd he had not been. 
While he the. bottom, not his face, had seen. 
But his proud head the airy mountain hides 
Among the clouds; his shoulders and his sides 
A shady mantle clothes ; his curled brows 
Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows. 
While winds and storms his lofty forehead beat ; 
The common fate of all that's high or great. 
Low at his foot a spacious plain is plac'd. 
Between the mountain and the stream embrac'd. 
Which shade and shelter from the Hill derives. 
While the kind river wealth and beauty gives. 
And in the mixture of all these appears 
Variety, which all the rest endears. 
This scene had some bold Greek or British Bard 
Beheld of old, what stories had we heard 



♦ The Forest. 



^^LA^SICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 205. 

Of Fairies^ Sat3n's. and the Nymphs their darri^f ^ )-^ 

Their feasts, their revels, and their am'rous flames ? 

'Tis still the same, although their airy shape 

All but a quick poetic sight escape. 

There Faunus and Sylvanus keep their courts. 

And thither all the horned host resorts 

To graze the ranker mead ; that noble herd 

On whose sublime and shady front is rear'd 

Nature's great masterpiece, to show how soon 

Great things are made, but sooner are undone. 

Here have I seen the King, when great affairs 

Gave leave to slacken and unbend his cares. 

Attended to the chase by all the flower 

Of youth, whose hopes a nobler prey devour ; 

Pleasure with praise and danger they would buy. 

And wish a foe that would not only fly. 

The stag now conscious of his fatal growth, 

At once indulgent to his fear and sloth. 

To some dark covert his retreat had made. 

Where nor man's eye, nor heaven's should invade 

His soft repose ; when th' unexpected sound 

Of dogs and men his wakeful ear does w^ound. 

Rous'd with the noise, he scarce believes his ear. 

Willing to think th' illusions of his fear 

Had given this false alarm, but straight his view 

Confirms that more than all his fears is true. 

Betray'd in all his strengths, the wood beset. 

All instruments, all arts of ruin met. 

He calls to mind his strength, and then his speed, 

His winged heels, and then his aimed head ; 

With these t' avoid, with that his fate to meet ; 

But fear prevails, and bids him trust his feet. 

So fast he flies, that his reviewing eye 

Has lost the chasers, and his ear the cry ; 

Exulting till he finds their nobler sense 

Their disproportion'd speed doth recompense ; 

Then curses his conspiring feet, whose scent 

Betrays that safety which their swiftness lent : 

Then tries his friends ; among the baser herd, 

Where he so lately was obey'd and fear'd. 

His safety seeks : the herd, unkindly wise. 

Or chases him from thence or from him flies. 

Like a declining statesman, left forlorn 

To his friends' pity, and pursuers' scorn, 



506 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

With shame remembers, while himself was one 

Of the same herd, himself the same had done. 

Thence to the coverts and the conscious groves. 

The scenes of his past triumphs and his loves. 

Sadly surveying where he rang'd along. 

Prince of the soil, and all the herd his own. 

And like a bold knight-errant did proclaim 

Combat to all, and bore away the dame, 

And taught the woods to echo to the stream 

His dreadful challenge, and his clashing beam ; 

Yet faintly now declines the fatal strife. 

So much his love was dearer than his life. 

Now ev'ry leaf, and ev'ry moving breath 

Presents a foe, and ev'ry foe a death. 

Wearied, forsaken, and pursued, at last 

All safety in despair of safety plac'd 

Courage he thence resumes, resolv'd to bear 

All their assaults, since 'tis in vain to fear. 

And now, too late, he wishes for the fight 

That strength he wasted in ignoble flight ; 

But when he sees the eager chase renew'd. 

Himself by dogs, the dogs by men pursu'd, 

He straight revokes his bold resolve, and more 

Repents his courage than his fear before ; 

Finds that uncertain ways uncertain are. 

And doubt a greater mischief than despair. 

Then to the stream, when neither friends, nor force. 

Nor speed, nor art, avail, he shapes his course ; 

Thinks not their rage so desperate to essay. 

An element more merciless than they. 

But fearless they pursue, nor can the flood 

Quench their dire thirst: alas ! they thirst for blood. 

So t' wards a ship the oar-finn'd galleys ply. 

Which wanting sea to ride, or wind to fly, 

Stands but to fall reveng'd on those that dare 

Tempt the last fury of extreme despair. 

So fares the stag ; among th' enrag'd hounds 

Repels their force, and wounds returns for wounds : 

And as a hero, whom his baser foes 

In troops surround, now these assails, now those ; 

Though prodigal of life, disdains to die 

By common hands ; but if he can descry 

Some nobler foe approach, to him he calls. 

And begs his fate, and then contented falls. 



^CilkSSlCAL ENGLISH POETRY. 507 

So when the King a mortal shaft lets fly mmBik cf?! f 

From his unerring hand, then glad to die, ? I 

Proud of the wound, to it resigns his blood, I 

And stains the crystal with a purple flood. 

This a more innocent and happy chase 

Than when of old, but in the self-same place. 

Fair Liberty pursu'd, and meant a prey 

To lawless Power, here tum'd, and stood at bay 

When in that remedy all hope was plac'd 

Which was, or should have been at least, the last 

Here was that charter seal'd, wherein the crown 

All marks of arbitrary power lays down ; 

Tyrant and slave, those names of hate and fear. 

The happier style of king and subject bear : 

Happy when both to the same centre move. 

When kings give liberty and subjects love. 

Therefore not long in force this Charter stood : 

Wanting that seal, it must be seal'd in blood. 

The subjects arm'd, the more then* princes gave, 

Th' advantage only took the more to crave ; 

Till kings, by giving, give themselves away. 

And ev'n that power that should deny betray. 

" Who gives constraui'd, but his own fear reviles, 

" Not thank'd, but scorn'd ; nor are they gifts, but spoils." 

Tnus kings, by grasping more than they could hold. 

First made their subjects by oppression bold ; 

And popular sway, by forcing kings to give 

More than was fit for subjects to receive, 

Kan to the same extremes ; and one excess 

Made both, by striving to bq, greater', less. 

When a calm river, rais'd with sudden rains. 

Or snows dissolv'd, o'erflows th' adjoining plains. 

The husbandmen with high-rais'd banks secure . 

Their greedy hopes, and this he can endure ; 

But if with bays and dams they strive to force 

His channel to a new or narrow course. 

No longer then within his banks he dwells, 

First to a torrent, then a deluge, swells ; 

Stronger and fiercer by restraint, he roars. 

And knows no bound, but makes his pow'r his shores. 

DENHAM. 



208 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



APPEAL IN FAVOUR OF THE POOR. 

O GIVE the heirs of poverty their cots. 
Attach them fondJy to their native spots ; 
Amidst their thorny path entwine a flower,- 
Theirs mild submission, thine attemper'd power ; 
Force them no more like banish'd men to roam, 
But give to each that balm of life — a Home ! 
A Home, tho' rocking on the mountain's brow. 
Or plac'd obscure in woodland vales below. 

As the Swain views his speck of property. 
In the rude hut a paradise shall see ; 
Near it shall raise his flowers, and nurse his field, 
And smile, tho* tempests rage, on what they yield,— 
In glad return for all the bounty shewn. 
His pow'r, his pray'r, his hand and heart's thy own. 

PRATT. 



REPUTATION. 

TO travel far as the wide w^orld extends. 

Seeking for objects that deserved their care, 
Virtue set forth, with two selected friends, 

Talent refin'd, and Reputation fair. 
As they went on in their intended round, 

Talent spoke first: '' My gentle comrades, say, 
^' Where each of you may probably be found, 

" Should accident divide us on the way. 
" If torn (she added) from my lov'd allies, 

" A friendly patronage I hope to find, 
'- Where the fine arts from cultivation rise, 

" And the sweet Muse iiath harmoniz'd man 
Says Virtue, '^ Did Sincerity appear, 

" Or meek-ey'd Charity among the great; 
'^ Could I find courtiers from corruption clear, 

'' 'Tis among these I'd seek for my retreat. 
'^ Could I find patriots for the public weal 

" Assiduous, and without their selfish crews ; 
" Could I find priests of undissembled zeal, 

*' 'Tis among these ray residence I'd choose. 
'' In glitt'ring domes let Luxury reside, 

^' I must be found in some sequester'd cell, 
" Far from the paths of Avarice or Pride, 

'^ Where home-bred Happiness delights to dwell.*' 




CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. S09 

Ye may be trac'd, my gentle friends, 'tis true : 
" But who (says Reputation) can explore 

" My slipp'ry steps ?-^^Keep, keep me in your view, 
'^ If I'm once lost, you'U never find me more/' 

CUNNINGHAM. 



HYMN ON SOLITUDE. 

HAIL, mildly-pleasing Solitude, 
Companion of the wise and good. 
But from whose holy piercing eye 
The herd of fools and villains fly. 

Oh ! how I love with thee to walk. 
And listen to thy whisper'd talk. 
Which innocence and truth imparts. 
And melts the most obdurate hearts. 

A thousand shapes you wear with ease. 
And still in ev'ry shape you please. 
Now wrapt in some mysterious dream, 
A lone philosopher you seem : 
Now quick from hill to vale you fly. 
And now you sweep the vaulted sky : 
A shepherd next, you haunt the plain, 
And warble forth your oaken strain : 
A lover now, with all the grace 
Of that sweet passion in your face : 
Then calm'd to friendship, you assume 
The gentle-looking Harford's bloom, 
As, with her Musidora, she 
(Her Musidora fond of thee) 
Amid the long-withdrawing vale, 
Awakes the rivall'd nightingale. 

Thine is the balmy breath of morn. 
Just as the dew-bent rose is born ; 
And while meridian fervours beat. 
Thine is the woodland dumb retreat : 
But chief when evening scenes decay. 
And the faint landscape swims away. 
Thine is the doubtful soft decline. 
And that best hour of musing thine. 

Descending angels bless thy train. 
The virtues of the sage, and swain ; 
Plain innocence in white array'd. 
Before thee lifts her fearless head : 



210 CLASSICAL ENGLISH FOETRY. 

Religion's beams around thee shine, ' 

And cheer thy glooms with light divine: 
About thee sports sweet Liberty ; 
And wrapt Urania sings to thee. Thomson. 



ODE TO PITY. 

O THOU, the friend of man, assigned, 
With balmy hands his w^ounds to bind. 

And charm his frantic woe.* 
When first Distress, with dagger keen, . 
Broke forth to waste his destin'd scene. 

His wild unsated foe ! 

By Pella's Bard, a magic name. 

By all the griefs his thought could frame. 

Receive my humble rite : 
Long, Pity, let the nations view 
Thy sky-worn robes of tenderest blue, 

And eyes of dewy light. 

But wherefoi'e need I wander wide 
To old Ilissus' distant side. 

Deserted stream, and mute } 
Wild Arun too has heard thy strains. 
And echo midst my native plains, 

Been sooth'd by Pity's lute. 

Come, Pity, come, by Fancy's aid, 
Ev'n now my thoughts, relenting maid. 

Thy temple's pride design ; 
Its southern site, its truth complete 
Shall raise a wild enthusiast heat. 

In all who view the shrine. 

There Picture's toil shall well relate. 
How chance, or hard involving fate. 

O'er mortal bliss prevail ; 
The buskin muse shall near her stand, 
And sighing prompt her tender hand. 

With each disastrous tale. 

There let me oft, retir'd by day. 
In dreams of passion melt away, 

Allow'd with thee to dwell : 
There waste the mournful lamp of night, 
Till, Virgin, thou again delight 

To hear a British shell ! collins. 



f^LASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY- 2^11 



THE SPLENDID SHILLING. 



Sing, heavenly Muse! 



" Things unattempted yet, in prose or rhyme," 
A shilling, breeches, and chimeraa dire. 

HAPPY the man, who, void of care and strife, 
In silken or in leathern purse retains 
A Splendid Shilling : he nor hears with pain 
New oysters cry'd, nor sighs for cheerful ale ; 
But with his friends, when nightly mists arise. 
To Juniper's Magpie, or Town-hall* repairs : 
Where, mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye 
Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amorous flames, 
Chloe or Philiis, he each circling glass 
Wishes her health, and joy, and equal love. 
Meanwhile, he smokes, and laughs at merry tale. 
Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint. 
But I, whom griping penury surrounds. 
And hunger, sure attendant upon want. 
With scanty offals, and small acid tiif. 
Wretched repast ! my meagre corpse sustain : 
Then solitary walk, or doze at home 
In garret vile, and with a warming puff 
Regale chili'd fingers ; or from tube as black 
As winter- chimney, or well-polish'd jet. 
Exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent : 
Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size. 
Smokes Cambro-Britain (vers'd in pedigree. 
Sprung from Cadwallader and Arthur, kings 
Full famous in romantic tale) when he 
O'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff. 
Upon a cargo of fam'd Cestrian cheese. 
High over-shadowing rides, with a design 
To vend liis wares, or at th' Arvonian mart. 
Or Maridunum, or the ancient town 
Yclep'd Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream 
Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil ! 
Whence flows nectareous wines, that well may vie 
WithMassic, Setin, or renown'd Falern. 

Thus while my joyless minutes tedious flow 
With looks demure, and silent pace, a dun. 



Two ijoied alehouses iu Oxford, iToo 



212 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Horrible monster! hated by gods and men. 

To my aerial citadel ascends : 

With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate. 

With hideous accent thrice he calls ; I know 

The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound. 

What should I do ? or whither turn ? Amaz'd ? 

Confounded, to the dark recess I fly 

Of wood-hole ; straight my bristling hairs erect 

Through sudden fear : a chilly sv/eat bedews 

My shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell !) 

My tongue forgets her faculty of speech ; 

So horrible he seems ! His faded brow 

Entrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard. 

And spreading band, admir'd by modern saints, 

Disastrous acts forebode : in liis right hand 

Long scrolls of paper solemnly he waves. 

With characters and figures dire inscribed. 

Grievous to mortal eyes ; (ye gods, avert 

Such plagues from righteous men !) Behind him stalks 

Another monster, not unlike himself. 

Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar caird 

A catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods 

With force incredible, and magic charms. 

First have endued : if he his ample palm 

Should haply on ill-fated shoulder lay 

Of debtor, straight his body, to the touch 

Obsequious (as whilom knights were wont,) 

To some enchanted castle is convey'd. 

Where gates impregnable, and coercive chains. 

In durance strict detain him, till, in form 

Of money, Pallas sets the captive free. 

Beware, ye debtors ! when ye walk, beware, 
Be circumspect ; oft with insidious ken 
This caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft 
Lies perdue in a nook or gloomy cave. 
Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch 
With his unhallow'd touch. So (poets sing) 
Grimalkin, to domestic vermine sworn 
An everlasting foe, with watchful eye 
Lies nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap. 
Protending her feU claws, to thoughtless mice 
Sure ruin . ^ So her disembav/ell'd web 
Arachne, in a hall or kitchen, spreads 
Obvious to vagrant flies : she secret stands 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 213 

Within her woven ceil; the humming prey-. 
Regardless of their fate, ruch on the toils 
Inextricable, nor will aught avail 
Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue ; 
The wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone. 
And butterfly, proud of expanded wings 
Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares. 
Useless resistance make : with eager strides, 
She tow'ring flies to her expected spoils ; 
Then, with envenom'd jaws, the vital blood 
Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave 
Their bulky carcasses triumphant drags. 

So pass my days. But, when nocturnal shadee 
This world enveiop'd, and th* inclement air 
Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts 
With pleasant wines, and crackling blaze of wood. 
Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light 
Of make- weight candle, nor the joyous talk 
Of loving friend, delights ; distress'd, forlorn. 
Amidst the horrors of the tedious night, 
Dai'kling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts 
My anxious mind; or sometimes mournful verse 
Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shadss^ 
Or desperate lady near a purling stream. 
Or lover pendent on a willow-tree. 
Meanwhile I labour with eternal drought. 
And restless wish, and rave ; my parched throat 
Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose : 
But if a slumber haply does invade 
My weary limbs, my fancy's still awake. 
Thoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream. 
Tipples imaginary pots of ale. 
In vain ; awake I find the settled thirst 
Still gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse. 

Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarr'd. 
Nor taste the fruits that the sun's genial rays 
Mature, John-apple, nor the downy peach, 
Nor walnut in rough-furrow'd coat secure, 
Nor medlar, fruit delicious in decay. 
Afllictions great ! yet greater still remain : 
My galligaskins, that have long withstood 
The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts. 
By time subdu'd (what will not time subdue !) 
An horrid chasm disclos'd with orifice 



214. CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Wide, discontinuous; at which the winds 

Eurus and Auster, and tlje dreadful force 

Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian waves. 

Tumultuous enter with dire chilling blasts. 

Portending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship. 

Long saird secure, or through th' iEgean deep. 

Or the Ionian, till cruising near 

The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush 

On Scylla, or Charybdis (dangerous rocks !) 

She strikes rebounding ; whence the shatter'd oak. 

So fierce a shock unable to withstand, 

Admits the sea; in at the gaping side 

The crowding waves gush with impetuous rage. 

Resistless, overwhelming ! horrors seize 

The mariners ; death in their eyes appears. 

They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray; 

(Vain efforts !) still the battering waves rush in. 

Implacable, till, delug'd by the foam. 

The ship sinks foundering in the vast abyss, phillips. 



THE MORNING LARK, 

FEATHER'D lyric ! warbling high. 
Sweetly gaining on the sky, 
Op'ning with thy matin lay 
(Nature's hymn !) the eye of day, 
Teach my soul, on early wing, 
Thus to soar and thus to sing. 

While bloom of orient light 

Gilds thee in thy tuneful flight, 

May the day- spring from on high. 

Seen by Faith's religious eye. 

Cheer me with his vital ray, 

Promise of eternal day ! Thomson. 



SEARCH OF HAPPINESS IN FOREIGN CLIMES. 

FOR ease the harass'd seaman prays. 
When equinoctial tempests raise 

The Cape's surrounding wave ; 
When hanging o'er the reef lie hears 
The crackling mast, and sees or feais. 

Beneath, his wat'ry grave. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 215 

For ease the slow Mahratta spoils 
And hardier Seik eiTatic toils^ 

While both their ease forego ; 
For ease which neither gold can buy. 
Nor robes, nor gems, which oft bely 

The covered heart, bestow. 

For neither gold nor gems combin'd 
Can heal the soul or suffering mind. 

Lo ! where their owner lies : 
Perch'd on his couch Distemper breathes. 
And care like smoke, in turbid wreaths. 

Round the gay ceiling flies. 

He who enjoys, nor covets more. 
The lands his father held before. 

Is of true bliss possess'd ; 
Let but his mind unfetter'd tread. 
Far as the paths of knowledge lead. 
And wise as well as blest. 

No fears his peace of mind annoy, 
Lest printed lies his fame destroy. 

Which labour'd years have won ; 
Nor pack'd Committees break his rest. 
Nor Avarice sends him forth in quest 

Of climes beneath the sun. 

Short is our span, then why engage 

In schemes for which man's transient age 

Was ne'er by Fate design'd ? 
Why slight the gifts of Nature's hand ? 
What wanderer from his native land 

E'er left himself behind ? 

The restless thought and wayward will. 
And discontent attend him still, 

Nor quit him while he lives ; 
At sea. Care follows in the wind ; 
At land, it mounts the pad behind. 

Or with the post-boy drives. 

He who would happy live to-day. 
Must laugh the present ills away. 

Nor think of woes to come ; 
For come they will, or soon or late, 
Since mix'd at best is man's estate. 

By Heav'n's eternal doom. ,. 



^16 eLASSICAL ENGLISH FOETRY. 

To ripen'd age Clive liv'd renown'd, .,,^„^ ^:^^ 
With lacks enrich'd, with honours crown'AJ 

His valour's M^ell-earn'd meed. , .r^. 
Too long, alas I he liv'd to hate . , i^ JiiH 
His envied lot, and died too late :' 

From life's oppression freed. '^ ' "j1 

-'\ 
And early death was Elliott's doom ; ^^ 

I saw his op'ning virtues bloom, ": 

And manly sense unfold, 
Too soon to fade. I bade the stone 
Record his name, 'midst hordes unkjiown. 

Unknowing what it told. ^ 

To this, perhaps, the Fates may give, 
I wish they may, in health to live. 

Herds, flocks, and fruitful fields ; 
Thy vacant hours in mirth to shine; 
With thee the Muse already thine. 

Her present bounty yields. 

For me, O Shore, I only claim. 
To merit, not to seek, for fame. 

The good and just to please ; 
A state above the fear of want. 
Domestic love. Heaven's choicest grant. 

Health, leisure, peace, and ease. 

HASTINGS* 



CHARACTER OF WOMEN. 

THRO' many a land and clime a ranger 
With toilsome steps I've held my way, 

A lonely unprotected stranger. 
To all the Stranger's ills a prey. 

While steering thus my course precarious^ 
My fortune still has been to find 

Men's hearts and dispositions various. 
But gentle Women, ever kind. 

Alive to every tender feeling. 
To deeds of mercy ever prone ; 

The wounds of pain and sorrow healing 
With soft Compassion's sweetest tone. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. _^17 



T 



No proud delay, no dark suspicion 
Stints the free bounty of their heart ; 

They turn not from the sad petition, 
But cheerful aid at once impart. 

Form'd in benevolence of Nature, 

Obliging, modest, gay, and mild. 
Woman's the same endearing creature, 

In courtly town and savage wild. 

When parch'd with thirst, with hunger wasted. 
Her friendly hand refreshment gave ; 

How sweet the coarsest food has tasted. 
What cordial in the simple wave ! 

Her courteous looks, her words caressing, 

Shed comfort on the fainting soul ; 
Woman's the stranger's general blessing 

From sultry India to the Pole ! ledyard. 



THE GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS, 

Translated from the Greek. 

FIRST to the gods thy humble homage pay; 

The greatest this, and first of laws obey : 

Perform thy vows, observe thy plighted troth. 

And let religion bind thee to thy oath. 

The heroes next demand thy just regard, 

Renown'd on earth, and to the stars preferr'd. 

To light and endless life, their virtue's sure reward. 

Due rites perform and honours to the dead. 

To every wise, to every pious shade. 

With lowly duty to thy parents bow. 

And grace and favour to thy kindred show : 

For what concerns the rest of human kind, 

Choose out the man to virtue best inchn'd ; 

Him to thy arms receive, him to thy bosom bind. 

Possest of such a friend, preserve him still, 

Nor thwart his counsels with thy stubborn will ; 

Pliant to all his admonitions prove. 

And yield to all his offices of love : 

Him from thy heart, so true, so justly dear. 

Let no rash word nor light offences tear. 

Bear all thou canst, still with his failings strive 

And to the utmost still, and still forgive; 



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218 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

For strong necessity alone explores 

The secret vigour of our latent powers. 

Rouses and urges on the lazy heart. 

Force, to itself unknown before, t' exert. 

By use thy stronger appetites assuage, 

Thy gluttony, thy sloth, thy lust, thy rage ; 

From each dishonest act of shame forbear ; 

Of others, and thyself, alike beware. 

Let reverence of thyself thy thoughts control, 

And guard the sacred temple of thy soul. 

Let justice o'er thy word and deed preside. 

And reason ev'n thy meanest actions guide : 

For knov/ that death is man's appointed doom. 

Know that the day of great account will come. 

When thy past life shall strictly be survey'd. 

Each word, each deed, be in the balance laid. 

And all the good and all the ill most justly be repaic 

For wealth, the perishing uncertain good. 

Ebbing and flowing like the fickle flood. 

That knows no sure, no fix'd abiding-place. 

But wandeiTUg loves from hand to hand to pass ; 

Revolve the getter's joy and loser's pain. 

And think if it be worth thy while to gain. 

Of all those sorrows that attend mankind. 

With patience bear the lot to thee assign'd ; 

Nor think it chance, nor murmur at the load ; 

For know what man calls fortune is from God. 

In what thou may'st, from wisdom seek relief. 

And let her healing hand assuage thy grief; 

Yet still whate'er the righteous doom ordains. 

What cause soever multiplies thy pains, 

Let not those pains as ills be understood ; 

For God delights not to afflict the good. 

The reasoning art, to various ends apply 'd. 

Is oft a sure, but oft an erring guide. 

Thy judgment therefore sound and cool preserve. 

Nor lightly from thy resolution swerve ; 

The dazzling pomp of words does oft deceive. 

And sweet persuasion wins the easy to believe. 

When fools and liars labour to persuade. 

Be dumb, and let the babblers vainly plead. 

This above all, this precept chiefly learn, _ ^.^ , , 
This nearly does, and first, thyself concernj ^^^ ^^i ■ , 



J 



CXASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 219 

Let not example, let no soothing tongue, 



[ 



Prevail upon thee with a Syren's song. 
To do thy soul's immortal essence wrong. 
Of good and ill by words or deeds exprest, 
Chooge for thyself, and always choose the best. 

Let wary thought each enterprise forerun. 
And ponder on thy task before begun. 
Lest folly should the wretched work deface. 
And mock thy fruitless labours with disgrace. 
Fools huddle on, and always are in haste. 
Act without thought, and thoughtless words they waste. 
But thou, in all thou dost, with early cares 
Strive to prevent at first a fate like their's; 
That sorrow on the end may never wait. 
Nor sharp repentance make thee wise too late. 

Beware thy meddling hand in aught to try. 
That does beyond thy reach of knowledge lie ; 
But seek to know, and bend thy serious thouglit 
To search the profitable knowledge out. 
So joys on joys for ever shall increase. 
Wisdom shall crown thy labours, and shall bless 
Thy life with pleasure, and thy end with peace. 

Nor let the body want its part, but share 
A just proportion of thy tender care : 
For health and welfare prudently provide. 
And let its lawful wants be all supply 'd. 
Let sober draughts refresh, and wholesome fare 
Decaying nature's wasted force repair ; 
And sprightly exercise the duller spirits cheer. 
In all things still which to this care belong. 
Observe this rule to guard thy soul from wrong. 
By virtuous use thy life and manners fraracj 
Manly and simply pure, and free from blame. 
Provoke not envy's deadly rage, but fly 
The glancing curse of her malicious eye. 

Seek not in needless luxury to waste 
Thy wealth and substance with a spendthrift's haste. 
Yet flying these, be watchful, lest thy mind. 
Prone to extremes, an equal danger find, 
And be to sordid avarice inclin'd. 
Distant alike from each, to neither lean. 
But ever keep the happy golden mean. 

Be careful still to guard thy soul from wrong. 
And let thy thought prevent thy hand and tongue, 

L2 



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220 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POPTRY. 

Let not the stealing god of sleep surprise, 
Ner creep in slumbers on thy weary eyes. 
Ere every action of the former day 
Strictly thou dost and righteously survey. 
With reverence at thy own tribunal stand, 
And answer justly to thy own demand. 
Where have I been ? In what have I transgressed ? 
What good or ill has this day's life express'd ? 
Where have I faii'd in what I ought to do ? 
In what to God, to man, or to myself I owe ? 
Inquire severe v/hate'er from first to last. 
From morning's dawn, till evening's gloom, has past. 
If evil were thy deeds, repenting mourn. 
And let thy soul with strong remorse be torn. 
If good, the good with peace of mind repay. 
And to thy secret self with pleasure say. 
Rejoice, my heart, for all went well to day. 

These thoughts, and chiefly these thy mind should 
Employ thy study, and engage thy love. [move. 

These are the rules which wUl to virtue lead. 
And teach thy feet her heavenly paths to tread. 
This by his name I swear, whose sacred lore 
First to mankind explain'd the mystic four. 
Source of eternal nature and almighty power. 

In all thou dost first let thy prayers ascend. 
And to the gods thy labours first commend : 
From them implore success, and hope a prosperous end 
So shall thy abler mind be taught to soar. 
And wisdom in her secret ways explore; 
To range through heaven above and earth below, 
Immortal gods and mortal men to laiow. 
So shalt thou learn what power does all control. 
What bounds the parts, and what unites the whole : 
And rightly judge, in all this wondrous frame. 
How universal nature is the same; 
So shalt thou ne'er thy vain affections place 
On hopes of what shall never come to pass. 

Man, wretched man, thou shalt be taught to know 
Who bears within himself the inborn cause of woe. 
Unhappy race ! that never yet could tell. 
How near their good and happiness they dwell. 
Depriv'd of sense, they neither hear nor see ; 
Fetter'd in vice, they seek not to be free, 
But stupid, to their own sad fate agree : 



i 

,^e. 

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CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 221 

Like ponderous rolling stones, oppress with ill, | 

The weight that loads them makes them roll 6n still, >■ 
Bereft of choice and freedom of the will ; | 

For native strife in every bosom reigns. 
And secretly an impious war maintains : 
Provoke not this, but let the combat cease. 
And every yielding passion sue for peace. 

Wouldst thou, great Jove, thou father of mankind, } 
Reveal the demon for that task assigned, ^ 

The wretched race an end of woes would find. j 

And yet be bold, O man, divine thou art. 
And of the gods' celestial essence part. 
Nor sacred nature is from thee concealed. 
But to thy race her mystic rules reveal'd. 
These if to know thou happily attain. 
Soon shalt thou perfect be in all that I ordain. 
Thy wounded soul to health thou shalt restore. 
And free from every pain she felt before. 

Abstain, I warn, from meats unclean and foul. 
So keep thy body pure, so free thy soul ; 
So rightly judge, thy reason so maintain ; 
Reason which heaven did for thy guide ordain. 
Let that best reason ever hold the rein. 

Then if this mortal body thou forsake. 
And thy glad flight to the pure ether take. 
Among the gods exalted shalt thou shine. 
Immortal, incorruptible, divine : 
The tyrant death securely shalt thou brave. 
And scorn the dark dominion of the grave. rowe. 



[ 



THE BUTTERFLY S BALL, AND THE GRASSHOPPER S FEAST. 

COME taKe up your hats, and away let us haste 
To the Buiterjiy's ball and the Grasshopper's feast : 
The trumpeter Gad-fiy has summoned the crew. 
And the revels are now only waiting for you ; 

On the smooth shaven grass, by the side of a wood. 
Beneath a broad oak, which for ages had stood. 
See the children of earth, and the tenants of air 
To an ev'ning's amusement together repair ; 

And there came the Beetle, so blind and so black, 
Who carried the Ermnet, his friend, on his back, 

L 3 



222 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

And there came the Gfiat and the Dragon-Ji^ too, 
And all their relations, green, orange, and blue ; 

And there came the Moth, with her plumage of down. 
And the Hornet, with jacket of yellow and brown. 
Who with him the Wasp, his companion did bring. 
But they promised, that ev'ning, to lay by their sting ; 

Then the sly little Dormouse peep'd out of his hole. 
And led to the feast, his blind cousin the Mole ; 
And the Snail, with her horns peeping out of her shell. 
Came, fatigu'd with the distance, the length of an ell ,* 

A mushroom the table, and on it was spread, 
A water 'dock leaf, which their table-cloth made. 
The viands were various, to each of their^ taste, 
And the Bee brought the honey to sweeten the feast ; 

With steps more majestic the Snail did advance. 
And he promis'd the gazers a minuet to dance ; 
But they all laugh'd so loud that he drew in his head. 
And went, in his own little chamber, to bed ; 

Then, as ev'ning gave way to the shadows of night. 
Their watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with his lig^ht. 
So home let us hasten, while yet we can see ; 
For no watchman is waiting for you or for me ! rosgoe. 



CONTENT. 

O'ER moorlands and mountains, rude, barren, and bare. 

As wilder'd and weary'd I roam, 
A gentle young shepherdess sees my despair. 

And leads me o'er lawns — ^to her home. 

Yellow sheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had crown'^ 
Green rushes were strew'd on her floor : 

Her casement sweet woodbines crept wantonly round. 
And deck'd the sod seats at her door. 

We sate ourselves down to a cooling repast. 
Fresh fruits, and she cuU'd me the best ; 

While thrown from my guard by some glances she cast. 
Love slily stole into my breast ! 

I told my soft wishes ; she sweetly reply'd, 

(Ye virgins, her voice was divine !) 
" I've rich ones rejected, and great ones deny'd, 

" But take me, fond shepherd — I'm thine." 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. XS!S 

Jier air was so modest, her aspect so meek, 
' So simple, yet sweet, were her charms I 
I kiss'd the ripe roses that glow'd on her cheeky 
And lock'd the dear maid in my arms. 

Now jocund together we tend a few sheep. 

And if by yon prattle, the stream, 
Reclin'd on her bosom I sink into sleep. 

Her image still softens my dream. 

Together we range o'er the slow-rising hills. 

Delighted with pastoral views. 
Or rest on the rock whence the streamlet distils. 

And point out new themes for my muse. 

To pomp or proud titles she ne'er did aspire. 

The damsel's of humble descent : 
The cottager, Peace, is well known for her sire, 

And shepherds have nam'd her Content. 

. CUNNINGHAlfi. 

A WINTER NIGHT. 

WHEN biting Boreas fell and doure. 
Sharp shivers thro' the leafless bow'r ; 
When Phoebus gi'es a short-liv'd glow'r. 

Far south the lift ; 
Dim dark'ning thro' the flaky show'r. 

Or whirling drift. 

Ae night the storm the steeples rocked. 
Poor Labour sweet in sleep was locked. 
While bums, wi' snawy wreeths up-choaked. 

Wild-eddying swirl; 
Or thro' the mining outlet boked, 

Down headlong hurl. 

List'ning the doors and winnocks rattle, 
I thought me on the ourie cattle. 
Or silly sheep, who bide this brattle 

O' Winter war ; 
And thro' the drift, deep-lairing sprattle. 

Beneath a scar. 

Ilk happing bird, wee, hapless thing I 
That in the merry months of Spring, 
Delighted me to hear thee sing, 

What comes of thee ? 
Where wilt thou cow'r thy chittering wing. 

And close thy e'e ? 

L4 



I24i CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Ev'n now on murd'ring errands wild. 

Lone from your savage homes exil'd. 

The blood-stain'd roost and sheep-cote spoil'd. 

My heart forgets ; 
While pitiless the tempest wild ^ 

Sore on you beats. 

Now, Phoebe, in her midnight reign. 
Dark muffled view'd the tender plain ; 
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train. 

Rose in my soul ; 
When on my ear this pensive strain. 

Slow, solemn, stole— 

''Blow, blow, ye winds, with heavier gust! 

" And freeze, thou bitter-biting frost ! 

" Descend, ye chilly, smothering snows ! 

" Not all your rage, as now, united shows, 

^' More hard unkindness, unrelenting, 

" Than heav'n-illumin'd man on man bestows I 

^* See stern Oppression's iron grip, 

" Or mad Ambition's gory hand, 
" Sending, like blood-hounds from the slip, 

" Woe, want, and murder, o'er the land ! 
" Ev'n in the peaceful rural vale, 
" Truth, weeping, tells the mournful tale, 
" How pamper'd Luxury, Flatt'ry by her side, 

" The parasite empoisoning her ear, 

" With all the servile wretches in the rear, 
" Looks o'er proud property extended wide ; 

" And eyes the simple rustic hind, 

'' Whose toil upholds the glitt'ring show, 

" A creature of another kind, 

" Some coarser substance unrefin'd, 
* Plac'd for his lordly use, thus far, thus vile, below 1 
" Wliere, where is Love's fond, tender throe, 
" With lordjy Honour's lofty brow, 

*' The powers you proudly own ? 
" Is there beneath Love's noble name, 
" Can harbour, dark, the selfish aim, 

" To bless himself alone I 
" Mark, maiden-innocence a prey 

" To love-pretending snares, 
" This boasted Honour turns away, 
" Shunning soft Pity's rising sway, 

" Regardless of the tears, and unavailing pray'rs ! 



CX^SSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. ?35 

" Perhaps this hour, in Mis'ry's squalid nest, 
** She strains her infant to her joyless breast, 
" And with a mother's fears, shrinks at the rocking blast 

" O ye ! who sunk in beds of down, 
'^ Feel not a want but what yourselves create, 
" Think for a moment, on his wretched fate, 
" Whom friends and fortune quite disown ! 
^* lU-satisfi'd keen Nature's clam'rous call, 

" Stretch'd on his straw, he lays himself to sleep ; 
" While, thro' the ragged roof and chinky wall, 
" Chill, o'er his slumbers, piles the drifty heap ! 
" Think on the dungeon's grim confine, 
" Where Guilt and poor Misfortune pine ! 
•^ Guilt, erring man, relenting view, 
'' But shall thy legal rage pursue 
'* The wretch, already crushed low, 
" By cruel Fortune's undeserved blow ? 
" Affliction's sons are brothers in distress, 
'' A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss !" 

I heard nae mair, for Chanticleer 

Shook oft the pouthery snaw. 
And hail'd the morning with a cheer, 

A cottage-rousing craw. 

But deep this truth impress'd my mind- 
Thro' all his works abroad ; 

The heart benevolent and kind. 

The most resembles God. burns. 



INVOCATION TO THE COD OF NATURE. 

HAIL, Source of Being ! universal Soul 

Of heav'n and earth ! Essential Presence, hail ! 

To Thee I bend the knee ; to Thee my thoughts 

Continual climb, who, with a master-hand. 

Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd. 

By Thee the various vegetative tribes, 

W^rapp'd in a filmy net, and clad with leaves. 

Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew : 

By Thee dispos'd into congenial soils, 

Stands each attractive plant, and sucks and swells 

The juicy tide, a twining mass of tubes : 

At thy command the vernal sun awakes 

The toi-pi^ sap, detruded to the root 



226 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

By wintry winds^ that now in fluent dance 
And lively fermentation mounting, spreads 
All this innum'rous-colour'd scene of things. 

As rising from the vegetable world 
My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend, 
My panting muse ! And hark ! how loud the woods 
Invite you forth in all your gayest trim. Thomson. 



THE ENGLISH POETS. 

SINCE> dearest Harry, you will needs request 
A short account of all the muse possest. 
That, down from Chaucer's days to Dryden's times, 
Have spent their noble rage in British rhymes : 
Without more preface, writ in formal length. 
To speak the undertaker's want of strength, 
ril try to make their several beauties known, 
And show their verses woilh, though not my ov/n. 

Long had our dull forefathers slept supine, 
N or felt the raptures of the tuneful Nine ; 
Till Chaucer first, a merry bard, arose. 
And many a story told in rhyme and prose. 
But age has rusted what the poet writ, 
Vf orn out his language, and obscur'd his wit : 
In vain he jests in his unpolish'd strain. 
And tries to make his readers laugh in vain. 

Old Spenser next, warm'd with poetic rage. 
In ancient tales amus'd a barbarous age ; 
An age that yet uncultivate and rude. 
Where'er the poet's fancy led, pui'su'd 
Through pathless fields, and unfrequented floods^ 
To dens of dragons, and enchanted woods. 
But now the mystic tale, that pleas'd of yore,. 
Can charm an understanding age no more ; 
The long-spun allegories fulsome gi'ow. 
While the dull moral lies too plain below. 
We view well-pleas'd at distance all the sights. 
Of arms and palfries, battles, fields, and fights. 
And damsels in distress, and courteous knights 
But when we look too near, the shades decay. 
And all the pleasing landscape fades away. 

Great Cowley then (a mighty genius) wrote. 
O'er-run with wit, and lavish of his thought ; 



^1 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. ^^7 

His turns too closelj'- on the reader press: 
He more had pleas'd us, had he pleas'd us less. 
One glittering thought no sooner strikes our eyes 
With silent wonder, but new wonders rise. 
As in the milky- way a shining white 
O'erflows the heavens with one continued light : 
That not a single star can show his rays. 
Whilst jointly all promote the common blaze. 
Pardon, great Poet, that I dare to name 
Th' unnumber'd beauties of thy verse with blame ; 
Thy fault is only wit in its excess : 
But wit like thine in any shape will please. 
What muse but thine can equal hints mspire. 
And fit the deep-mouth'd Pindar to thy lyre': 
Pindar, whom others in a laboured strain, 
Andforc'd expression, imitate in vain 1 
Well pleas'd in thee he soars with new delight. 
And plays in more unbounded verse, and takes a nobler 
flight. 

Blest man ! whose spotless life and charming lays, 
Employ'd the tuneful prelate in thy praise ; 
Blest man ! who now shall be for ever known. 
In Sprat's successful labours and thy ov/n. 

But Milton next, with high and haughty stalks, 
Unfetter'd in majestic numbers walks : 
No vulgar hero can his muse engage ; 
Nor earth's wide scene confine his hailow'd rage. 
See ! see ! he upward springs, and towering high. 
Spurns the dull province of mortality ; 
Shakes heaven's eternal throne with dire alarms, 
And sets th' Almighty thunderer in arms. 
Whate'er his pen describes I more than see. 
Whilst every verse, array'd in majesty. 
Bold and sublime, my whole attention draws. 
And seems above the critic's nicer laws. 
How are you struck with terror and delight. 
When angel with archangel copes m ^ght ! 
When great Messiah's outspread banner shines. 
How does the chariot rattle in his lines ! 
What sound of brazen wheels, what thunders scare 
And stun the reader with the din of war ! 
With fear my spirits and my blood retire. 
To see the seraphs sunk in clouds of fire. 

L6 



228 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

But when^ with eager steps, from hence I rise, 

And view the first gay scenes of Paradise ; 

What tongue, what words of rapture, can express 

A vision so profuse of pleasantness ! 

O had the poet ne'er profan'd his pen. 

To varnish o'er the guilt of faithless men ; 

His other works might have deserv'd applause ! 

But now the language can't support the cause ; 

While the clean current, though serene and bright. 

Betrays a bottom odious to the sight. 

But now, my muse, a softer strain rehearse. 
Turn ev'ry line with art, and smooth thy verse ; 
The courtly Waller next commands thy lays ; 
Muse, tunfe thy verse, with art, to Waller's praise. 
While tender airs and lovely dames inspire 
Soft melting thoughts, and propagate desire. 
So long shall Waller's strains our passions move. 
And Saccarissa's beauty kindle love. 
Thy verse, hannonious bard, and flattering song. 
Can make the vanquish'd great, the cowai'd strong. 
Thy verse can show e'en Cromwell's innocence. 
And compliment the storm that bore him hence. 
Oh had thy muse not come an age too soon. 
But seen great Nassau on the British throne. 
How had his triumphs gUtter'd in thy page. 
And warm'd thee to a more exalted rage ! 
What scenes of death and horror had we view'd. 
And how had Boyne's wide current reek'd in blood ! 
Or if Maria's charms thou wouldst rehearse. 
In smoother numbers and a softer verse ; 
Thy pen had well describ'd her graceful air. 
And Gloriana would have seem'd more fair. 

Nor must Roscommon pass neglected by. 
That makes e'en rules a noble poetry : 
Rules whose deep sense and heavenly nmnbers show 
The best of critics, and of poets too. 
Nor, Denham, must we e'er forget thy strains. 
While Cooper's hill commands tJfie neighbouring plains 

But see where artful Dryden next appears. 
Grown old in rhyme, but charming ev'n in years. 
Great Dryden next, whose tuneful muse affords 
The sweetest numbers, and the fittest words. 
Whether in comic sounds or tragic airs 
She forms her voice, she moves our smiles or tears. 



^^(iVisifcM iiS t is^ Ipoetr Y. 229 

If satire or heroic strains she writes, '-' 

Her hero pleases, and her satire bites. 

From her no harsh unartful numbers fall. 

She wears all dresses, and she charms in all. 

How might we fear our English poetry. 

That long has flourish'd should decay with thee ; 

Did not the muses' other hope appear. 

Harmonious Congreve, and forbid our fear : 

Congreve ! whose fancy's unexhausted store 

Has given already much, and promis'd more. 

Congreve shall still preserve thy fame alive. 

And Dryden's muse sliall in his friend "survive. 

I'm tir'd with rhyming, and would fain give o'er. 
But justice still demands one labour more : 
The noble Montague remains unnam'd. 
For wit, for humour, and for judgment fam'd ; 
To Dorset he directs his artful muse. 
In numbers such as Dorset's self might use. 
How negligently graceful he unreins 
His verse, and writes in loose familiar strains ; 
How Nassau's godlike acts adorn his lines. 
And all the hero in full glory shines ! 
We see his army set in just array. 
And Boyne's dy'd waves run purple to the sea. 
Nor Simois choak'd with men, and arms, and blood : 
Nor rapid Xanthus' celebrated flood. 
Shall longer be the poet's highest themes, [streams ; 
Though gods and heroes fought promiscuous in their 
But now, to Nassau's secret councils rais'd. 
He aids the hero, whom before he prais'd. 

I've done at length : and now, xlear friend, receive 
The last poor present that my muse can give. 
I leave the arts of poetry and verse 
To them that practise them with more success. 
Of greater truths, I'll now prepare to tell 
And so at once, dear friend, and muse, farewell. 

ADDISON. 



A STORM OF THUNDER AND LIGHTNI.VG. 

HIGH on the east the great Ben Lomond rears 
His lofty head, and hides it in the clouds ! 
These oft attracted by his tow 'ring height. 
Stop short their airy flight, and form a veil 



£30 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Which dark and thick descends. Condensing still, 

Pai't slowly sails along, and swelling, shrouds 

The neighb'ring hills — the glens how dark between ! 

The winds are hush'd — the birds expectant pause ! 

The ox with wistful gaze eyes the deep gloom ! 

Nor voice of man is heard, nor pipe nor horn. 

But silent expectation reigns and boding fear ! 

Sudden athwart the gloom the lightning's glance 

As quick reflected by the placid lake. 

With lucid air darts bright ! Anon sublime 

In awful majesty the thunder rolls ; 

Onward it rolls, and louder roars. 

In bursting peals successive heard afar, 

Re-echo'd oft by rocks and caverns deep 

From all the neighb'ring hills — till circling round — 

Still gaining force, again it bursts a peal 

That stuns the ear. Rocks dash'd on rocks are heard 

Rattling around. The stoutest heart appall'd. 

With v/ild dismay, scarce dare to eye the gloom : 

Deep seem'd with frequent streaks of moving fire. 

Darting in rapid gleams from cloud to cloud I 

The clouds are seen in wildest tumults mix'd : 

And now — a mighty flash with fearful glare 

Wide opens half the sky ! The heavy rain 

Pouring in streams, resistless rushes down. 

Ploughs the red mould, and bears it to tlie main ! 

Nature convuls'd, the everlasting hills 

Appear to totter, and the total wreck 

Of all terrestrial objects seems at hand ! cririe. 



TO PEACE, 



O THOU, who bads't my turtles bear 
Swift from his grasp thy golden hair, 

And sought thy native skies: 
When War, by vultures drawn from far. 
To Britain bent his iron car. 

And bade his storms arise ! 

Tir'd of his rude tyrannic sway. 
Our youth shall fix some festive day. 

His sullen shrines to burn ; 
But thou, who hear'st the turning spheres. 
What sounds may charm thy partial ears. 

And gain thy blest return ? 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 231 

O Peace, thy injur'd robes upbind ! 
O rise and leave not one behind 

Of all thy beamy train ; 
The British lion, goddess sweet, 
Lies stretch'd on earth to kiss thy feet. 

And own thy holier reign. 

Let others court thy transient smile, 
But come to grace thy western isle. 

By warlike honour led ! 
And while around her ports rejoice. 
While all her sons adore thy choice, 

With him for ever wed ! collins. 



THE ROSE-BUD. 

QUEEN of fragrance, lovely Rose, 

The beauties, of thy leaves disclose ! 

The winter's past, the tempests fly. 

Soft gales breathe gently thro' the sky ; 

The lark sweet warbling on the wing. 

Salutes the gay return of Spring : 

The silver dews, the vernal showers, 

Call forth a bloomy waste of flowers ; 

The joyous fields, the shady woods. 

Are cloth'd with green, or swell'd with buds . 

Then haste thy beauties to disclose. 

Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose ! 

Thou beauteous flower, a welcome guest, 
Shalt flourish on the fair-one's breast. 
Snail grace her hand, or deck her hair. 
The flower most sweet, the nymph most fair. 
Breathe soft, ye winds ! be calm, ye skies ! 
Arise, ye flowery race, arise ! 
And haste thy beauties to disclose. 
Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose ! 

But thou, fair nymph, thyself survey 
In this sweet offspring of a day ; 
That miracle of face must fail : 
Thy charms are sweet, but charms are frail : 
Swift as the short-liv'd flower they fly, 
At morn they bloom, at evening die : 
Tho' sickness yet a while forbears. 
Yet time destroys what sickness spares. 



£ CLASSlCAl* ENGLISat POEXRY. 

Now Helen lives alone in fame, j. ,, . 

And Cleopatra's but a name. '^ ^^"^ ^"l^ 

Time must indent that heavenly brow, 
And thou must be, what they are now. 

This moral to the fair disclose. 
Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose. broo?4E. " 



AN ODE. 



THE spacious firmament on high. 

With all the blue ethereal sky. 

And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 

Their great Original proclaim. 

Th' unweary'd sun, from day to day 

Does his Creator's power display ; 

And publishes to every land. 

The work of an Almighty hand. 

Soon as the evening shades prevail. 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale ; 
And nightly, to the listening earth. 
Repeats the story of her birth ; 
Whilst all the stars that round her burn. 
And all the planets, in their turn. 
Confirm the tidings as they roll. 
And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

What though in solemn silence, all 

Move round the dark terrestrial ball ; 

What though no real voice, nor sound. 

Amidst their radiant orbs be found :- 

In Reason's ear they all rejoice. 

And utter forth a glorious voice ; 

For ever singing as they shine. 

The hand that made us is divine. AobisoN. 



TO-MORROW. 



TO-MORROW, didst thou say ! 
Methought I heard Horatio say. To-morrow. 
Go to^ — I will not hear of it — to-morrow ! 
'Tis a sharper who takes penury 
Against thy plenty— -who takes thy ready cash, 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 233 

And pays thee nought/ but wishesj hopes, and promises. 

The currency of idiots. Injurious bankrupt. 

That gulls the easy creditor ! — To-morrow ! 

It is a period no where to be found 2^1 

In all the hoary registers of time. 

Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. 

Wisdom disclaims the words, nor holds society 

With those who own it. No, my Horatio, 

'Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father ; 

Wrought on such stuff as dreams are ; and baseless 

As the fantastic visions of the evening. 

But soft, my friends, arrest the present moments ; 

For be assur'd, they all are arrant tell-tales ; 

And tho' their flight be silent, and their paths trackless 

As the wing'd couriers of the air. 

They post to Heaven, and there record their folly — 

Because, tho' station'd on the important watch. 

Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel. 

Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd. 

And know, for that thou slumber'st on the guard. 

Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar 

For every fugitive : and when thou thus 

Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal 

Of hood-wink'd Justice, who shall tell thy audit ? 

Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio 

Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings, 

'Tis of more worth than kingdoms ! far more precious 

Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain. 

Oh ! let it not elude thy grasp, but, like 

The good old patriarch upon record. 

Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee. cotton. 



CONJUGAL FELICITY. 

HAPPY they ! the happiest of their kind ! 

Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate 

Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 

'Tis not the coarser tie of human laws. 

Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind. 

That binds their peace, but harmony itself, 

Attuning all their passions into love ; 

Where Friendship full exerts her softest poM'er, 

Perfect esteem, enliven'd by desire 



2S4 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Ineffable, and sympathy of soul ; 

Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, 

With boundless confidence : for nought but love 

Can answer love, and render bliss secure. 

——What is the world to them, 
Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all ? 
Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish : 
Something than beauty dearer, should they look 
Or on the mind, or mind-illum'd face : 
Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love. 
The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven ; 
Meantime a smiling offspring rises round. 
And mingles both their graces. By degrees 
The human blossom blows ! and every day. 
Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm. 
The father's lustre, and the mother's bloom. 
Then infant reason grows apace, and calls 
For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 
Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought. 
To teach the young idea how to shoot. 
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind. 
To breathe th' enliv'ning spirit, and to fix 
The gen'rous purpose in the glowing breast. 
Oh speak the joy ! ye whom the sudden tear 
Surprises often, while you look around. 
And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss. 
All- various nature pressing on the heart : 
An elegant sufficiency, content. 
Retirement, rural, quiet, friendship, books. 
Ease and alternate labour, useful life. 
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven ; 
These are the matchless joy of virtuous love; 
And thus their moments fly. The seasons thus. 
As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll. 
Still find them happy, and consenting Spring 
Sheds her own rosy gai'land on their heads : 
'Till evening comes at last, serene and mild. 
When, after the long vernal day of life, 
Enamour'd more, as more remembrance swells 
With many a proof of recollected love. 
Together down they sink in social sleep ; 
Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 
To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 

THOMSON. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 235 



THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS. 



THE midnight moon serenely smiles 

O'er Nature's soft repose ; 
No lowering cloud obscures the sky, 

Nor rustiing tempest blows. 

Now every passion sinks to rest. 
The throbbing heart lies still; 

And varying schemes of life no more 
Distract the lab'ring will. 

In silence hush'd to Reason's voice. 
Attends each mental pow'r ; 

Come, dear Amelia, and enjoy 
Reflection's fav'rite hour. 

Com^ while the peaceful scene invites. 
Let's search this ample round ; 

Where shall the lovely fleeting form 
Of Happiness be found ? 

Does it amid the frolic mirth 

Of gay assemblies dwell; 
Or hide beneath the solemn gloom. 

That shades the hermit's cell ? 

How oft the laughing brow of joy 
A sick'ning heart conceals I 

And, thro' the cloister's deep recess* 
Invading sorrow steals ! 

In vain, thro' beauty, fortune, wit. 

The fugitive we trace; 
It dwells not in the faithless smile. 

That brightens Clodia's face. 

Perhaps the joy to these deny'd. 
The heart in friendship finds; 

Ah! dear delusion, gay conceit. 
Of visionary minds ! 

Howe'er our varying motions rove, . 

Yet all agree in one ; 
To place its being in some state. 

At distance from our own. 



tS6 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

O blind to each indulgent aim. 

Of pow'r supremely wise ; 
Who fancy happiness in aught 

The hand of Heaven denies ! 

Vain is alike the joy we seek. 

And vain what we possess ; 
Unless harmonious Reason tunes 

The passions into peace. 

Totemper'd wishes, jusi desires. 

Is happiness confined ; 
And, deaf to Folly's call, attends 

The music of the mind. cakter. 



THE DISTINCTION OP AGES. 

THE seven first years of life (man's break of day) 

Gleams of short sense, a dawn of thought, display ; 

When fourteen springs have bloom'd his downy cheek. 

His soft and blushful meanings learn to speak ; 

From twenty-one proud manhood takes its date. 

Yet is not strength complete till twenty-eight ; 

Thence to his five-and-thirtieth, life's gay fire 

Sparkles, bums loud, and flames in fierce desire : 

At forty-two, his eyes grave wisdom wear. 

And the dark future dims him o'er with care : 

On to the nine-and-fortieth, toils increase. 

And busy hopes and fears distuib his peace ; 

At fifty-six, cool Reason reigns entire. 

Then life burns steady, and with temp'rate fire ; 

But sixty-three unbinds the body's strength. 

Ere the unwearied mind has run her length : 

And when from seventy, age surveys her last, 

Tir'd she stops short — and wishes all were past, hill. 



THE PATRIOT. 

BREATHES there the man with soul so deadj 
Who never to himself hath said, 

" This is my own — my native land ?" 
Whose heart bath ne'er within him burn'd, 
As home his footsteps he hath tuni'd. 

From wandering on a foreign strand? 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 237 

If such there breathe, go mark him well, 
For him — no Minstrel raptures swell ! 

High tho' his titles, proud his name — 

Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; 

Despite those titles, power, and pelf, 

The wretch concentrated all in self. 

Living, shall forfeit fair renown. 

And doubly dying, shall go down 

To the vile dust from whence he sprung. 

Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung ! Walter scott. 



AN HVMN. 



WHEN all thy mercies, O my God, 

My rising soul surveys ; 
Transported with the view, I am lost 

In wonder, love, and praise. 

O how shall words with equal warmth. 

The gratitude declare. 
That glows within my ravish'd heart ! 

But thou canst read it there. 

Thy providence my life sustain'd. 

And all my wants redrest ; 
When in the silent womb I lay. 

And hung upon the breast. 

To all my weak complaints and cries. 

Thy mercy lent an ear ; 
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had leanit 

To form themselves in pray'r. 

Unnumber'd comforts to my soul 

Thy tender care bestow'd. 
Before my infant heart conceiv'd 

From whence these comforts flow'd. 

When in the slippery paths of youth. 

With heedless steps I ran, 
Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe. 

And led me up to man. 

Through hidden dangers, toils, and death. 

It greatly clear'd my way ; 
And through the pleasing snares of vice. 

More to be fear'd than they. 



233 CLASSICAL ENGLISII POETRY. 

When worn with sickness, oft hast thou 

With health renewed my face ; 
And when in sins and sorrows sunk, 

Reviv'd my soul with grace. 

Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss 

Has made my cup run o'er ; 
And, in a kind and faithful fi-iend. 

Has doubled all my store. 

Ten thousand thousand precious gifts 

My daily thanks employ; 
Nor is the least a cheerful heart. 

That tastes those gifts with joy. 

Through every period of my life. 

Thy goodness I'll pursue ; 
And after death, in distant worlds. 

The glorious theme renew. 

When nature fails, and day and night 

Divide thy works no more ; 
My ever-grateful heart, O Lord ! 

Thy mercy shall adore. 

Through all eternity to thee 

A joyful song I'll raise ; 
For, oh ! eternity's too short 

To utter all thy praise. addison. 



LOVE OF PRAISE. 

OF all the springs within the mind 

Which prompt her steps in Fortune's maze ; 

From none more pleasing aid we find. 
Than from the genuine love of praise. 

Nor any partial, private end. 

Such rev'rence to the public bears ; 

Nor any passion. Virtue's friend. 
So like to Virtue's self appears. 

For who in glory can delight 

Without delight in glorious deeds ? 

What man a charming voice can slight. 
Who courts the echo that succeeds ? 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 23§ 

But not the echo on the voice 

More than on Virtue praise depends ; 

To which, of course, its real price 
The judgment of the praiser lends. 

If praise then with religious awe 

From the sole perfect Judge be sought ; 

A nobler aim, a purer law, 

Nor priest, nor bard, nor sage hath taught 

With which in character the same, 

Tho' in an humbler sphere it lies, 
I count that soul of human fame. 

The suffrage of the good and wise. akenside. 



THE BEGGARS PETITION. 

PITY the sorrows of a poor old man. 

Whose trembling limbs have home him to your door ; 
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; 

Oh ! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. 

These tatter'd clothes ray poverty b^eak. 

These hoary locks proclaim my lengthened years; 

And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek. 
Has been the channel to a flood of tears. 

Yon house, erected on the rising ground, 

With tempting aspect, drew me from the road. 

For Plenty there a residence has found. 
And Grandeur a magnificent abode. 

Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor ! 

Here, as I crav'd a morsel of their bread, 
A pamper'd menial drove me from the door. 

To seek a shelter in an humbler shed. 

Oh ! take me to your hospitable dome ; 

Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold ! 
Short is my passage to the friendly tomb ! 

For I am poor, and miserably old. 

Should I reveal the sources of my grief. 
If soft Humanity e'er touch'd your breast ; 

Your hands would not withhold the kind relief. 
And tears of pity would not be represt. 



240 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Heaven sends misfortunes — why should we repine? 

'Tis Heaven has brought rae to the state you see ; 
And your condition may be soon like mine, 

The child of sorrow and of misery, 

A little farm was my paternal lot ; 

Then like the lark I sprightly hail'd the mom ; 
But ah ! Oppression forc'd rae from ray cot. 

My cattle died, and blighted was my cora. 

My daughter, once the comfort of my age, 
Lur'd by a villain from her native home, 

Is cast abandon'd on the world's wide stage. 
And doom'd in scanty poverty to roam. 

My tender wife, sweet soother of my care ! 

Struck with sad anguish at the stem decree. 
Fell, ling'ring fell, a victim to despair. 

And left the world to wretchedness and me. 

Pity the sorrows of a poor old man. 

Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door ; 
Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; 

O ! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. 



AN HYMN. 

WHEN rising from the bed of death, 
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear, 

I see my Maker face to face ; 
O how shall I appear ! 

If yet, while pardon may be found. 

And mercy may be sought. 
My heart with inward horror shrinks. 

And trembles at the thought. 

When thou, O Lord ! shalt stand disclos'd 

In majesty severe. 
And sit in judgment on my soul ; 

O how shall I appear ! 

But thou hast told the troubled soul. 

Who does her sins lament. 
The timely tribute of her tears 

Shall endless woe prevent. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 2^1 

-^,,^ :Tlien see the sorrows of my heasl^jg^H siT' 

Ere yet it be too late ; " :-oo loov hnA 
And add my Saviour's dying groansf^ ^^'^ 
To give those sorrows weight. 

For never shall my soul despair 

Her pardon to procure ; 
Who knows thy only Son has dy'd 

To make that pardon sure. addison. 



THE PHILOSOPHERS STONE. 
TO A LITTLE GIRL. 

PHILOSOPHERS, dear girl, have toil'd 
Two thousand years, and still been foii'd, 
To find that far-fara'd precious stone, 
They arrogantly call their own ; 
And still they rack their sapient brains. 
And get but labour for their pains. 

Alas ! they all agree at length. 
To make it out is past their strength ; 
And so conclude, with reason sound. 
This stone is no where to be found: 
But yet they talk and write about it. 
And wonder how they live without it. 
Some place the precious stone in gold. 
Beyond what Croesus ever told ; 
Some give it to corporeal health. 
And some will have it mental wealth : 
Others determine it to mix. 
In fashion, and a coach and six. 
And some have labour'd hard to prove ■: 
It is a cottage, blest by Love : 
This, thinks it shade, that, swears 'tis sun. 
Yet all conclude where they begun. 

The grand discovery, then, is mine. 
Since I can prove, s^veet Maid ! 'tis thine. 
If, in true happiness it lies. 
It revels in Eliza's eyes : 
And, if it blooms in Health's fair rose 
In dear Eliza's face it glows ; 

M "^" 



riVi 



242 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, 

Like morning-beams we see it break, 
And sport upon Eliza's cheek. 
And when she takes her playful round. 
In every step it seems to bound. 

Or if, as sages oft have told. 
The charm consists in making gold, 
Pure, as if stampt in mint divine, 
Eliza, still that mint is thine ; 
And your sweet alchemy shall claim. 
Beyond the sage, superior fame. 
From that rich mine, — a merry heart 
You draw, with more than cheniic art, JL 

Of happy thoughts, a copious store. 
And radiant gold, without the ore. 
And the gay vein of sportive sense, 
Enrich'd by sterling innocence. 
The purest treasures of the mind. 
Good humour'd, graceful, and refin'd ; 
And rivalling the seers of old. 
Whatever you touch transmutes to gold. 
The brass of life, and even the lead. 
Turn to this envied stone instead. 
And by the power of transmutation. 
Grow richer by their alteration. 

And hence, 'tis plain, this envied stone 
Belongs to innocence alone; 
And those who are as good as you. 
May, if they please, possess it too ; 
For to be good, and gay, and free. 
Is still the best philosophy. phatt. 



SCENES OF CHILDHOOD. 

DEAR native brook ! like Peace, so placidly 
Smoothing thro' fertile fields thy current meek \ 
Dear native brook i where first young Poesy 
Star'd wildly-eager to her noon-tide dream. 
Where blameless pleasures dimple Quiet's cheek. 
As water-lilies ripple a slow stream 1 
,. Dear native haunts ! where Virtue still is gay : 

I Where Friendship's fix'd star sheds a mellow'd ray ; 

! Where Love a crown of thornless roses wears : 

Where soften'd Sorrow smiles within her tears : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 243 

And Mem'ry, with a Vestal's chate employ. 
Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of Joy ! 
No more your sky-larks melting from the sight 
Shall thrill th' untuned heart-string with delight : 
No more shall deck your pensive Pleasures sweet 
With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat. 
Yet dear to Fancy's eye your varied scene 
Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook between ! 
Yet sweet to Fancy's ear the warbled song, 
That soars on Morning's whig your vales among ! 

Scenes of my Hope 1 the asking eye ye leave 
Like yon bright hues that pa^nt the clouds of eve ! 
Tearful and sadd'ning with the sadden'd blaze. 
Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistfid gaze ; 
Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend. 
Till chill and damp the moonless night descend. 

COLERIDGE. 

EARTH AND HEAVEN. 

HAST thou not seen, impatient boy ? 

Hast thou not read the solemn truth. 
That gray experience writes for giddy youth 
On every mortal joy ! 
Pleasure must be dash'd with pain : 
And yet, with heedless haste. 
The thirsty boy repeats the taste. 
Nor hearkens to despair, but tries the bowl again. 
The rills of pleasure never run sincere : 

Earth has no unpolluted spring, 
From the curs'd soil some dangerous taint they bear ; 
So roses grow on thorns, and honey wears a sting. 

In vain we seek a heaven below the sky ; 

The world has false but flattering charms : 
Its distant joys show big in our esteem. 
But lessen still as they draw near the eye ; 

In our embrace the visions die : 

And when we grasp the airy forms. 
We lose the pleasing dream. 

Earth, with her scenes of gay delight. 
Is but a landscape rudely drawn. 
With glaring colours, and false light ; 
Distance commends it to the sight. 
For fools to gaze upon, 

M2 



244 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETR\. 

But bring the nauaeous daubing nigh. 
Coarse and confus'd the hideous figures lie. 
Dissolve the pleasure, and offend the eye. 

Look up, my soul, pant tow'rd th* eternal hills ; 

Those heavens are fairer than they seem ; 
There pleasures all sincere glide on in crystal rills. 

There not a dreg of guilt defiles. 
Nor grief disturbs the stream. 

That Canaan knows no noxious thing. 

No cursed soil, no tainted spring. 
Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting. 

WATTS 



THE HAPPY MAN. 

HIGH o'er the winding of a cliffy shore. 

From whose worn steep the black'ning surges roai ; 

Freeman ! sweet lot, in quiet plenty lives : 

Rich in the unbought wealth which Nature gives ; 

Unplanted groves rise round his shelter'd seat. 

And self-sown flow'rs attract his wand'ring feet ; 

Lengths of wild garden his near views adorn, 

A nd far-seen fields wave with domestic corn. 

The grateful herds which his own pastures feed, 
Pay their ask'd lives, and in due tribute bleed. 
Here, in learn'd leisure, he relaxes life, 
'Twixt prattling children and a smiling wife. 
Here, on dependant want he seeds his care. 
Moves amid smiles, and all he hears his pray'r. 
The world lies round him like a subject soil, 
Stor'd for his service, but beneath his toil. 
Hence in a morning- walk his piercing eye 
Skims the green ocean to the circling sky ; 
And marks at distance some returning sail^ 
Wing'd by the courtship of a flatt'ring gale. 
The fearless crew, concluding danger o'er. 
With gladd'ning shouts salute the op'ning shore; 
They think how best they may their gains employ. 
And antedate thin scenes of promis'd joy. 
Till a near quick-sand check'd their shortened way. 
And the sunk masts point thro' the rising spray. 
Freeman starts sad ! revolves the changeful sight. 
Where mis'ry can so soon succeed delight; '^iP*^^^^' 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 24^ 

Then shakes his head in pity of their fate, 

And sweetly conscious, hugs his happier state. hill. 



INVOCATION TO PEACE. 

COME, Peace of mind, delightful guest ! 
Return, and make thy downy nest 

Once more in this sad heart : 
Nor riches I, nor pow'r pursue. 
Nor hold forbidden joys in view ; 

We therefore need not part. 

Where wilt thou dwell, if not with me. 
From Av'rice and Ambition free. 

And Pleasure's fatal wiles ? 
From whom, alas ! dost thou prepare 
The sweets that I was wont to share. 

The banquet of thy smiles ? 

The great, the gay, shall they partake 
The heav'n that thou alone canst make ? 

And wilt thou quit the stream. 
That murmurs thro* the dewy mead. 
The grove and the sequester'd shade. 

To be a guest with them ? 

For thee I panted, thee I priz'd. 
To thee I gladly sacrific'd 

Whate'er I lov'd before ; 
And shall I see thee start away. 
And helpless, hopeless hear thee say. 

Farewell! we meet no more ! cowpsr. 



TRUE LEARNING. 

HAPPY the feet that shining truth has led 
With her own hand to tread the path she please. 
To see her native lustre round her spread. 

Without a veil, without a shade. 
All beauty, and all light, as in herself she is. 

Our senses cheat us with the pressing crowds 
Of painted, shapes they thrust upon the mind : 
The truth they show lies wrapp'd in sevenfold shrouds^ 
Our senses cast a thousand clouds .: 

On unenlightened souls, and leave them doubly blind. ' 

M3 



246 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POtTRY. 

I hate the dust that fierce disputers raise. 
And lose the mind in a wild maze of thought : 
What empty triflings, and what empty ways. 

To fence and guard by rule and rote ! 
Our God will never charge uSj that we knew them not* ^ ; 

Touch, heavenly word, O touch these curious souls ; 
Since I have heard but one soft hint from thee, ' ' 
From all the vain opinions of the schools. 

That pageantry of knowing fools, 
I feel my powers released, and stand divinely free. 

'Twas this Almighty word that all things made. 
He grasps all nature in his single hand ; 
All the eternal truths in him are laid. 

The ground of all things, and their head. 
The circle where they move, and centre where they stancL 

Without his aid I have no sure defence. 
From troops of errors that besiege me round ; 
But he that rests his reason and his sense 

Fast here, and never wanders hence, 
Unmoveable he dwells upon unshaken ground. 

Infinite truth, the life of my desires^ 
Come from the sky, and join thyself to me ; 
Tm tir d with hearing, and this reading tires ; 

But never tir'd of telling thee, 
'Tis thy fair face alone my spirit burns to sec. 

Speak to my soul, alone, no other hand 
Shall mark ray path out with delusive art; 
All nature silent in his presence ^tand ; 
Creatures, be dumb at his command. 
And leaves his single voice to whisper to my heart. 

Retire, my soul, within thyself retire. 
Away from sense and every outward show ; 
Now let my thoughts to loftier themes aspire, 

My knowledge now on wheels of fire 
May mount and spread above, surveying all below. 

The Lord grows lavish of his heavenly light. 
And pours whole floods on such a mind as this : 
Fled from the eyes, she gains a piercing sight. 

She dives into the infinite. 
And sees unutterable things in that unknown abyss. 

WATTS. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 247* 

TO THE MOON. 

QUEEN of the silver bow ! — by thy pale beam, 

Alone and pensive, I delight to stray. 
And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream. 

Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way. 
And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light 

Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast : 
And oft I think — ^fair planet of tbfi night. 

That in thy orb the wretched may have rest : 
The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, 

Releas'd by death — to thy benignant sphere ; ^ ? 

And the sad children of Despair and Woe ; i ' 

Forget, in thee, the cup of sorrow here. ;( > 

Oh ! that I soon may reach thy world serene. 
Poor wearied pilgrim— in this toiling scene ! 

CHARLOTTE SMITH, 



ODE TO LEVEN-WATER. 

On Leven's banks, while free to rove, 
And tune the rural pipe to love ; 
I envied not the happiest swain 
That ever trod th' Arcadian plain. 

Pure stream, in whose transparent wave 
My youthful limbs I wont to lave ; 
No torrents stain thy limpid source ; 
No rocks impede thy dimpling course. 
That sweetly warbles o'er its bed. 
With white, round, polish'd, pebbles spread ; 
While, lightly pois'd, the scaly brood 
In myriads cleave thy crystal flood ; 
The springing trout in speckled pride ; 
The salmon, monarch of the tide ; 
The ruthless pike, intent on war ; 
The silver eel, and mottled par. 
Devolving from thy parent lake, 
A charming maze thy waters make. 
By bowers of birch, and groves of pine. 
And edges flower'd with eglantine. 

Still on thy banks so gaily green. 
May num'rous herds and flocks be seen: 

M4 



J48 CLASSipAii EJJCyUISIi POETRY. 

And lasses chanting o'er the pail, ^g^jj gjjj nsdT 
And shepherds piping in the dale;' '" gjj tgg 
And ancient Faith that knows no guile, jj [^.^q *. 
And Industry embrown'd with toil ; * - 

And hearts resolv'd, and hands prepar'd. 
The blessings they enjoy to guard ! smojllet. 



TO A FRIEND. 

HEALTH to my Friend, and many a cheerful day. 
Around his seat may peaceful shades abide; 

Smooth flow the minutes, fraught with smiles away. 
And till they crown our union, gently glide. 

Ah me ! too swiftly fleets our vernal bloom I 
Lost to our wonted friendship, lost to joy ! 

Soon may thy breast the cordial wish resume 
Ere wint'rjr doubt its tender warmth destroy. 

Say, were it ours, by Fortune's wild command^ 
By chance to meet beneath the torrid zone ; 

VVould'st thou reject thy Damon's plighted hand ? 
Would'st thou with scorn thy once-lov'd friend disown? 

Life is that stranger land, that alien clime ; 

Shall kindred souls forego their social claim ? 
Launch'd in the vast abyss of space and time. 

Shall dark suspicion quench the generous flame .? 

Myriads of souls, that knew one parent mould. 
See sadly sever'd by the laws of chance ! 

Myriads, in Time's perennial list enroll'd. 

Forbid by Fate to change one transient glance ! 

But we have met — where ills of every form, 
Where passions rage, and hurricanes descend. 

Say, shall we nurse the rage, assist the storm. 
And guide them to the bosom— of a Friend > 

Yes, we have met — ^thro' rapine^ fraud, and wrong. 
Might our joint aid the paths of peace explore ! 

Why leave thy friend amidst the boisterous throng. 
Ere Death divide us, and we part no more } 

For oh ! pale Sickness warns thy friend away ; 

For me no more the vernal roses bloom ; 
I see stern Fate his ebon wand display ; 

And paint the wither'd regions of the tpoib, 



CLAShlCAL ENGLISH POETRY. , ^^49 

Then the keen anguish from thine eye shall start. 
Sad as thou follow'st my untimely bier ; 

" Fool that I was — if Friends so soon must part. 
To let suspicion intermix a fear." shenstone. 



ON A PRESENT OF THREE ROSES. 

THREE roses to her humble slave 
The Mistress of the Graces gave ; 
Three Roses of an eastern hue. 
Sweet swelling with ambrosial dew. 
How each with glowing pride displays 
The riches of its circling rays ! 
How all, in sweet abundance, shed 
Perfumes that might revive the dead ! 
Now tell me, fair one, if you know. 
Whence these balmy spirits flow ? 
Whence springs this modest blush of light, 
W^hich charms at once, and pains the sight ? 
The fair one knew, but would not say ; 
So blush'd, and smiling, went her way.^ 
Impatient, next the Muse I call ; 
She comes, and thus would answer all : 
" Fool (and I sure deserv'd the name,) 
*' Mark well tlie beauties of the darae ; 
*' And can you wonder why so fair, 
" And why so sweet the Roses are ? 
" Her cheek with living purple glows, 
" Which blush'd its rays on ev'ry Rose; 
" Her breath exhal'd a sweeter smell 
'« Than fragrant fields of asphodel ; 
" The sparkling spirit in her eyes 
*' A kindlier influence supplies, 
" Than genial suns and summer skies ; 
"Now can you wonder why so fair, 
" And why so sweet, the Roses are ?" 

" Hold, tuneful trifler," I reply'd, 
" The beauteous cause I now descry'd- 
** Hold, talk no more of summer skies, 
" Of genial suns, and splendid lies ; 
** Of fragrant fields of asphodel, 
<'* And brightest rays, and sweetest smell ; 

M 5 



[ 



250 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

" Whatever poetry can paint, 

" Or Muse can utter— all is faint; 

" 'IVo words had better all exprest ; 

" She took the Roses from — her breast." Thompson. 



TRUE WISDOM. 

PRONOUNCE him blest, my muse, whom wisdom 
In her own path to her own heavenly seat ; [^guides 

Through all the storms his soul securely glides. 
Nor can the tempests nor the tides. 

That rise and roar around, supplant his steady feet. 

Earth, you may let your golden arrows fly. 
And seek in vain a passage to his breast. 
Spread all your painted toys to court his eye, 
He smiles, and sees them vainly try 
To lure his soul aside from her eternal rest 

Our head-strong lusts, like a young fiery horse. 
Start, and flee, raging in a violent course ; 
He tames and breaks them, manages and rides them. 
Checks their career, and turns and guides them, 
And bids his reason bridle their licentious force. 

Lord of himself, he rules his wildest thoughts. 
And boldly acts what calmly he designed. 
While he looks down and pities human faults ; 
Nor can he think, nor can he find 
A plague like reigning passions, and a subject mind. 

But oh ! 'tis mighty toil to reach this height. 
To vanquish self is a laborious art ; 
What manly courage to sustain the fight, 
To bear the noble pam, and part 
With those clear charming tempters rooted in the heart ! 

'Tis hard to stand when all the passions move. 
Hard to awake the eye that passion blinds ; 
To rend and tear out this unhappy love. 
That clings so close about our minds. 
And where th' enchant'd soul so sweet a poison finds. 

Hard; but it may be done. Come, heavenly fire. 
Come to my breast, and with one powerful ray 
Melt off my lusts, my fetters : I can bear 
Awhile to be a tenant here. 
But not be chain'd and prison'd in a ^e pf clay* 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 251 

Heaven is my home, and I must use my wings ; 
Sublime above the globe my flight aspires : 
I have a soul was made to pity kings. 
And all their little glittering things ; 
I have a soul was made for infinite desires. 

Loos'd from the earth, my heart is upward flown ; 
Farewell, ray friends, and all that once was mine ; 
Now, should you fix my feet on Caesar's throne : 
Crown me, and call the world my own, [fine. 

The gold that binds my brows could ne'er my soul con- 

I am the Lord's, and Jesus is my love ; 
He, that dear God, shall fill my vast desire. 
My flesh below ; yet I can dwell above. 
And nearer to my Saviour move ; 
There all my soul shall centre, all my powers conspire. 

Thus I with angels live ; thus half divine 

I sit on high, nor mind inferior joys: 
Fill'd with his love, I feel that God is mine. 

His glory is my great design. 
That everlasting project all my thoughts employ, watts. 



GRONGAR HILL. 

SILENT Nymph ! with curious eye. 
Who, the purple evening, lie 
On the mountain's lonely van. 
Beyond the noise of busy man. 
Painting fair the form of things, 
While the yellow linnet sings ; 
Or the tuneful nightingale 
Charms the forest with her tale ; 
Come, with all thy various hues. 
Come, and aid thy sister muse. 
Now, while Phoebus riding high. 
Gives lustre to the land and sky, 
Gr.ongar Hill invites my song. 
Draw the landscape bright and strong ; 
Grongar ! in whose mossy cells. 
Sweetly musing Quiet dwells ; 
Grongar! in whose silent shade. 
For the modest Muses made. 

So oft I have, the evening still, , j. 

At the fountain of a rill, *"^^ 

xM6 



Sat upon a flow'ry bed, - 

With my hand beneath my head. 

While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood. 

Over mead and over wood. 

From house to house, from hill to hill, vj 

Till contemplation had her fill. 

About his chequer'd sides I wind. 
And leav3 his brooks and meads behind ; 
And groves and grottos, where I lay, 
And vistos shooting beams of day. 
Wide and wider spreads the vale. 
As circles on a smooth canal : 
The mountains round, unhappy fate ! 
Sooner or later, of all height. 
Withdraw their summits from the skies. 
And lessen as the others rise. 
Still the prospect wider spreads. 
Adds a thousand woods and meads ; 
Still it widens, widens still. 
And sinks the newly-risen hill. 

Now I gain the mountain's brow ; 
What a landscape lies below ! 
No clouds, no vapours, intervene ; 
But the gay, the open scene, 
Does the face of Nature show 
In all the hues of heaven's bow ; 
And, swelling to embrace the light. 
Spreads around beneath the sight. 

Old castles on the cliffs arise. 
Proudly tow'ring in the skies ; 
Rushing from the woods, the spires 
Seem from hence ascending fires : 
Half his beams Apollo sheds 
On the yellow mountain-heads. 
Gilds the fleeces of the flocks. 
And glitters on the broken rocks. 

Below me trees unnumber'd rise. 
Beautiful in various dyes : 
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue. 
The yellow beech, the sable yew : 
The slender fir that taper grows. 
The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs ; 
And, beyond the purple grove. 
Haunt of Phillis, queen of love ! 



} 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 253 

Gaudy as the op'ning dawn. 
Lies a long and level lawn. 
On which a dark hill, steep, and high, 
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye. 
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood ; 
His sides are cloth'd with waving wood; 
And ancient towers crown his brow, 
That cast an awful look below ; 
Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps. 
And with her arms from falling keeps : 
So both a safety from the wind 
On mutual dependence find. 

*Tis now the raven's bleak abode, 
'Tis'now th' apartment of the toad ; 
And there the fox securely feeds 
And there the pois'nous adder breeds, 
Conceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds ; 
While, ever and anon, there falls 
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls. 
Yet time has seen, that lifts the low. 
And level lays the lofty brow, 
Has seen this broken pile complete. 
Big with the vanity of state : 
But transient is the smile of Fate ! 
A little rule, a little sway, 
A sun-beam in a winter's day. 
Is all the proud and mighty have 
Between the cradle and the grave. 

And see the rivers, how they run 
Thro* woods and meads, in shade and sun ! 
Sometimes swift, sometimes slow. 
Wave succeeding wave, they go 
A various journey to the deep. 
Like human life, to endless sleep; 
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought. 
To instruct our wand'ring thought ; 
Thus she dresses green and gay. 
To disperse our cares away. 

Ever charming, ever new. 
When will the landscape tire the view ? 
The fountain's fall, the river's flow, 
The woody valleys, warm and low ; 
The windy summit, wild and high. 
Roughly rushing on the sky ! 



SM CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow'r. 
The naked rock, the shady bow'r ; 
The town and village, dome and farm. 
Each give each a double charm. 
As peark upon an Ethiop*s arm. 

See on the mountain's southern side 
Where the prospect opens wide, 
Where the evening gilds the tide, ^ 
How close and small the hedges lie ! 
What streaks of meadows cross the eye ! 
A step, methinks ! may pass the stream. 
So little distant dangers seem : 
So we mistake the future's face, 
Ey'd through Hope's deluding glass. 
As yon summits soft and fair, 
Clad in colours of the air. 
Which, to those who journey near. 
Barren, brown, and rough, appear; 
Still we tread the same coarse way ; 
The present's still a cloudy day. 

O may I with myself agree, , 

And never covet what I see ! 
Content me with a humble shade. 
My passions tam'd, my wishes laid ; 
For while our wishes wildly roll. 
We banish quiet from the soul : 
'Tis thus the busy beat the air. 
And misers gather wealth and care. 

Now, e'en now, my joys run high. 
As on the mountain-turf I lie ; 
While the wanton Zephyr sings. 
And in the vale perfumes his wings; 
While the waters murmur deep ; 
While the shepherd charms his sheep ; 
While the birds unbounded fly. 
And with music fill the sky; 
Now, e'en now, my joys run high. 
Be full, ye courts ! be great who will ; 
Search for peace with all your skill ; 
Open wide the lofty door. 
Seek her on the marble floor : 
In vain ye search, she is not there : 
In vain ye search the domes o£ Care ! 



ban 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 255 

Grass and flowers Quiet treads, 

On the meads and mountain-heads. 

Along with Pleasure close ally'd. 

Ever by each others' side ; 

And often, by the murm'ring rill. 

Hears the thrush, while all is still, 

Within the groves of Grongar Hill, j dyer. 



} 



TO NIGHT. 



I LOVE thee, mournful, sober-suited Night ! 

When the faint moon, yet lingering in her wane. 
And veil'd in clouds, with pale uncertain light 

Hangs o'er the waters of the restless main. 
In deep depression sunk, the enfeebled mind 

Will to the deaf cold elements complain. 

And tell the embosom'd grief, however vain. 
To sullen charges and the viewless wind. 
Tho' no repose on thy dark breast I find, 

I still enjoy thee — cheerless as thou art ; 

For in thy quiet gloom the exhausted heart 
Is calm, tho' wretched; hopeless, yet resign'd. 
While to the winds and waves its sorrows given. 
May reach — tho' lost on earth — the ear of Heaven 1 

CHARLOTTE SMITH. 



FREEDOM. 



TEMPT me no more. My soul can ne'er comport 

With the gay slaveries of a court ; 

I've an aversion to those charms. 
And hug dear liberty in both mine arms. 

Go, vassal souls, go cringe and wait. 
And dance attendance at Honorio's gate. 
Then run in troops before him to compose his state ; 

Move as he moves ; and when he loiters, stand ; 

You're but the shadows of a man. 

Bend when he speaks ; and kiss the ground : 

Go, catch the impertinence of sound: 

Adore the follies of the great ; 
Wait till he smiles : but lo, the idol frown'd. 

And drove them to their fate. 



S^S^S CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Thus base-born minds: but as for me, 
I can and will be free : 
Like a strong mountain_, or some stately tree. 

My soul grows firm upright. 
And as I stand, and as I go. 

It keeps my body so; 

No, I can never part with my creation right. 
Let slaves and asses stoop and bow, 

I cannot make this iron knee 
Bend to a meaner power than that which form'd it free. 

Thus my bold harp profusely play'd 
Pindarical; then on a branchy shade 
I hung my harp aloft, myself beneath it laid. 

Nature, that listened to my strain, 

Resum'd the theme, and acted it again. 

Sudden rose a whirling wmd. 

Swelling like Honoiio proud. 

Around the straws and feathers crowd. 
Types of a slavish mind ; 

Upwards the stormy forces rise. 

The dust flies up and climbs the skies. 
And as the tempest fell, th' obedient vapours sunk ; 
Again it roars with bellowing sound. 

The meaner plants that grew around, 
The willow, and the asp, trembled and kiss'd the ground. 

Hard by, there stood the iron trunk 
Of an old oak, and all the storm defy'd ; 

In vain the winds their forces try'd. 

In vain they roar'd ; the iron oak 
Bow'd only to the heavenly thunder's stroke. watts. 



ON A TEAR. 



OH ! that the chemist's magic art 
Could crystallize this sacred treasure ! 

Long should it glitter near my heart, 
A secret source of pensive pleasure. 

The little brilliant, ere it fell. 

Its lustre caught from Chloe's eye; 

Then, trembluig, left its coral cell — 
The spring of sensibility I 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. J^f 

Sweet drop of pure and pearly lightish"?;! ^'■aT 

In thee the rays of Virtue shine ; 
More calmly clear, more mildly bright, 0*>jf I 

Than any gem that gilds the mine. ^M 

Benign restorer of the soul ! 

Who ever fiy'st to bring relief. 
When first she feels the rude control 

Of Love or Pity, Joy or Grief. 

The sage's and the poet's theme. 

In every clime, and every age ; 

Thou charm'st in Fancy's idle dream, 

In Reason's philosophic page. Rogers. 



THE GARDEN WINDOW. 

HERE, Amanda, gently bending, 

Sweetly pensive, loves to lean ; 
O'er the groves, her sight extending 

Thro'tiie walks that shoot between. 

Plac'd, says she, within this window 

Screened, I distant charms survey. 
Taught by poor, deceiv'd Olindo, 

Nothing's safe that looks too gay. 

Here, I view, in soften'd shadings, 
Am'rous flow'r to flow'r incline. 
Too remote to mourn their fadings. 
When with hanging head they pine. 

Here I smell the fragrant breezes. 

Safe from evening's chilly blasts; 
Here the noon-day sunshine pleases. 

Fearless when 'twill overcast. 

Hence I hear the tempest rising. 

See the grovy greatness shake, 
Ev'ry distant ill despising. 

While I every good partake. 

So commanding Life's gay garden, 

Let me thornless wear the Rose ; 
Choice like mine let Fashion pardon. 

Tasting charms, but shunning woes. hill. 



25S CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

"■0 

WRITTEN IN THE HOLY BIBLE. 

YE sacred tomes, be my unerring guide, 

Dove-hearted saints, and prophets, eagle-ey'd ! 

I scorn the moral fop, and ethic sage. 

But drink in truth from your illumin'd page : 

Like Moses' bush each leaf divinely bright. 

Where God invests himself in milder light I 

Taught by your doctrmes we devoutly rise. 

Faith points the way, and Hope unbars the skies : 

You tune our passions, teach them how to roll. 

And sink the body but to raise the soul ; 

To raise it, bear it to mysterious day. 

Nor want an angel to direct the way ! Thompson. 



TRUE RICHES. 



I AM not concerned to know 
What to-morrow fate will do ; 
'Tis enough that I can say 
I've possess'd myself to-day : 
Then if haply midnight death 
Seize my flesh and stop my breath. 
Yet to-morrow I shall be 
Heir to the best part of me. 

Glittering stones, and golden things. 
Wealth and honors that have wings. 
Ever fluttering to be gone, 
I could never call my own ; 
Riches that the world bestows 
She can take, and I can lose ; 
But the treasures that are mine 
Lie afar beyond her line. 
When 1 view my spacious soul. 
And survey myself a whole. 
And enjoy myself alone, 
I'm a kingdom of my own. 

I have a mighty part within. 
That the world hath never seen. 
Rich as Eden's happy ground. 
And with choicer plenty crown'd. 
Here on all the shining boughs. 
Knowledge fair and useful grows ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETKY. 259 

On the same young flowery tree 
All the seasons you may see ; 
Notions in the bloom of light, 
Just disclosing to the sight ; 
Here are thoughts of larger growth. 
Ripening into solid truth ; 
Fruits refin'd, of noble taste ; 
Seraphs feed on such repast. 
Here, in a green and shady grove. 
Streams of pleasure mix with love : 
There beneath the smiling skies 
Hills of contemplation rise ; 
Now upon some shilling top 
Angels light and call me up ; 
I rejoice to raise my feet^ 
Both rejoice when there we meet. 

There are endless beauties more 
Earth hath no resemblance for ; 
Nothing like them round the pole. 
Nothing can describe the soul : 
*Tis a region half unknown. 
That has treasiu'es of its own. 
More remote from public view 
Than the bowels of Peru ; 
Broader 'tis, and brighter far. 
Than the golden Indies are ; 
Ships that trace the watery stage 
Cannot coast it in an age ; 
Harts, or horses, strong and fleet. 
Had they wings to help their feet, 
Could not run it half way o'er 
In ten thousand days and more. 

Yet the silly wandering mind. 
Loath to be too much confin'd. 
Roves and takes her daily tours. 
Coasting round the narrow shores. 
Narrow shores of flesh and sense. 
Picking shells and pebbles thence : 
Or she sits at fancy's door. 
Calling shapes and shadows to her. 
Foreign visits still receiving. 
And t' herself a stranger living. 
Never, never, would she buy 
Indian dust, or Tyrian dye. 



250 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Never trade abroad for more. 

If she saw her native store ; 

If her inward worth were known. 

She might ever live alone. watts. 



THE QUESTION ANSWERED. 

IS there a place, save one the poet sees, 

A land of love, of liberty, and ease ; 

Where labour wearies not, nor cares suppress 

Th' eternal flow of rustic happiness ; 

Where no proud mansion frowns in aweful state, 

Or keeps the sunshine from the cottage gate; 

Where young and old, intent on pleasure, throng, 

And half man's life, is holiday and song ? 

Vain-search for scenes like these, no view appears. 
By sighs unruffled or unstain'd by tears ; 
Since vice the world subdu'd, and waters drown'd, 
Auburn and Eden can no where be found. 

Hence good and evil mix'd, but man has skill 
And power to part them, when he feels the will : 
Toil, care, and patience, bless the abstemious few,-» 
Fear, shame, and want, the thoughtless herd pursue. 

/^/ / CRABBE. 

THE GRAVE. 

WHILST some affect the sun, and some the shade. 

Some flee the city, some the hermitage ; 

Their aims as various, as the roads they take. 

In journeying through life ; — the task be mine 

To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb ; 

Th' appointed place of rendezvous, where all 

These travellers meet. Thy succours I implore. 

Eternal king ! whose potent arm sustains 

The keys of hell and death. The grave, dread thing ! 

Men shiver when thou'rt nam'd : Nature appall'd. 

Shakes off her wonted firmness. Ah ! how dark 

Thy long-extended realms, and rueful wastes ! 

Where nought but silence reigns, and night, dark night. 

Dark as was chaos, ere the infant sun 

Was roll'd together, or had try'd his beams - ,, 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 201 

Athwart the gloom profound. The sickly taper, 
By glimm'ring through thy low-brow'd misty vaults, 
Furr'd round with mouldy damps, and ropy slime, 
Lets fall a supernumerary horror, 
And only serves to make thy night more irksome. 
Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew. 
Cheerless, unsocial plant ; that loves to dwell 
'Midst sculls and coffins, epitaphs and worms : 
Where light-heel'd ghosts, and visionary shades, 
Beneath the wan, cold moon, as fame reports, 
Embody'd, thick, perform their mystic rounds. 
No other merriment, dull tree, is thine. 

See yonder hallow'd fane; the pious work 
Of names once fam'd, now dubious or forgot, i, 

And bury'd 'midst the wTeck of things which were ; 
There lie interr'd the more illustrious dead. 
The wind is up: hark! how it howls! Methinks 
Till now I never heard a sound so dreary : 
Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird 
Rook'd in the spire, screams loud : the gloomy aisles 
Black plaster'd, and hung round with shreds of scutcheons 
And tatter'd coats of arras, send back the sound 
Laden with heavier airs, from the low vaults. 
The mansions of the dead. Rous*d from their slumbefsii 
In grim array the grisly spectres rise, ^ ^. 

Grin horrible, and obstinately sullen. 
Pass and repass, hush'd as the foot of night. 
Again the screech owl shrieks, ungracious sound ! 
I'll hear no more ; it makes one's blood run chill. 

Quite round the pile, a row of reverend elms. 
Coeval near with that, all ragged show. 
Long lash'd by the nide winds. Some rift half down 
Their branchless trunks ; others so thin a top. 
That scarce two crows could lodge in the same tree. 
Strange things, the neighbours say, have happen'd here: 
While shrieks have issu'd from the hollow tombs : 
Dead men have come again, and walk'd about ; 
And the great bell has toU'd, unrung, untouch'd ; 
Sucli tales their cheer at wake or gossiping. 
When it draws near to witching time of night. 

Oft, in the lone church-yard at night I've seen. 
By glimpse of moon-shine chequering through the tre©5. 
The school-boy with his satchel in his hand. 
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up. 



262 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

And lightly ti-ipping o'er the long flat stones. 
With nettles skirted, and with moss o'ergrown. 
That tell, in homely phrase, who lie below. 
Sudden he starts, and hears, or thmks he hears. 
The sound of something purring at his heels ; 
Full fast he flies, and dares not look behind him. 
Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows ; 
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale 
Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly. 
That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand 
O'er some new-open'd grave ; and strange to tell ! 
Evanishes at the crowing of the cock. 

The new-made widow too I've sometimes spy'd, 
Sad sight! slow moving o'er the prostrate dead : 
Listless, she crawls along in doleful black. 
Whilst bursts of sorrow gush from either eye, 
Fast falling down her now untasted cheek. 
Prone on the lowly grave of the dear man 
She drops; while busy meddling memory. 
In barbarous succession musters up 
The past endearments of their softer hours. 
Tenacious of its theme. Still, still, she thinks 
She sees him, and, indulging the fond thought. 
Clings yet more closely to the senseless turf, 
Nor heeds the passenger who looks that way. 

Invidious grave ! how dost thou rend in sunder 
Whom love has knit, and sympathy made one ! 
A tie m-ore stubborn far than nature's band ! 
Friendship ! mysterious cement of the soul ; 
Sweetener of life, and soldier of society, 
I owe thee much. Thou hastdeserv'd from me, 
Far, far beyond what I can ever pay. 
Oft have I prov'd the labours of thy love. 
And the warm efforts of thy gentle heart. 
Anxious to please. Oh ! when my friend and I 
In some thick wood have wander'd heedless on, 
Hid from the vulgar eye, and sat us down 
Upon the sloping cowslip-cover'd bank. 
Where the pure limpid stream has slid along 
In grateful errors through the under- wood. 
Sweet murmuring; methoughtthe shrill-tongu'd thrush 
Mended his song of love ; the sooty black-bird 
Mellow'd his pipe, and soften'd every note : 
The eglantine smell'd sweeter, and the rose 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 26S 

Assum'd a dye more deep ; whilst ev'ry flower 

Vied with its fellow plant in luxury 

Of dress. Oh ! then, the longest summer's day 

Seem'd too, too much in haste ! still the full heart 

Had not imparted half; 'twas happiness 

Too exquisite to last. Of joys departed. 

Not to return, how painful the remembrance ! 

Dull grave — thou spoil'st the dance of youthful blood, 
Strik'st out the dimple n-om the cheek of mu-th. 
And ev'ry smii'king feature from the face ; 
Branding our laughter with the name of madness. 
Where are the jesters now ? the men of health 
Complexionally pleasant ? Where the droll. 
Whose ev'ry look and gesture was a joke 
To clapping theatres, and shouting crowds. 
And made ev'n thick-lipp'd musing Melancholy 
To gather up her face into a smile 
Before she was aware ? Ah ! sullen now. 
And dumb as the green turf that covers them, blair. 



THE adventurous boy, that asks his httle share. 

And hies from home, with many a gossip's prayer. 

Turns on the neighbouring hill, once more to see 

The dear abode of peace and privacy ; 

And as he turns, the thatch among the trees. 

The smoke's blue wreaths ascending with the breeze. 

The village common spotted with w^hite sheep. 

The church-yard yews round which his fathers sleep ; 

All rouse Reflection's sadly-pleasing train. 

And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again ! 

So, when the mild Tupia dar'd explore 
Arts yet untaught, and worlds unknown before, 
And, with the sons of Science, woo'd the gale 
That rising swell'd their strange expanse of sail ; 
So, when he breath'd his firm yet fond adieu. 
Borne from his leafy hut, his carv'd canoe. 
And all his soul best lov'd, such tears he shed. 
While each soft scene of summer beauty fled : 
Long o'er the wave a wistful look he cast. 
Long watch'd the streaming signal from the mast ; 
Till twilight's dewy tints deceiv'd his eye. 
And fairy forests fring'd the evening sky ! 



264 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

So Scotia's Queen/ as slowly dawn'd the day. 
Rose on her couch, and gaz'd her soul away. 
Her eyes had bless'd the beacon's glimmering height. 
That faintly tipt the featheiy surge with light ; 
But now the mom with orient hues portray'd 
Each castled cliff, and brown monastic shade ; 
All touch'd the talisman's resistless springs 
And lo — what busy tiibes were instant on tlie wing ! 

ROGERS. 



THE WISH. 

MINE be a cot beside the hill ; 

A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear ; 
A wallow brook, that turns a mill. 

With many a fall, shall linger near. 

The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch. 
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; 

Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch. 
And share my meal, a welcome guest. 

Around my ivy'd porch shall spring 

Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew ; 

And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing. 
In russet gown and apron blue. 

The village church, among the trees. 

Where first our marriage vows were giv*n. 

With merry peals shall swell the breeze. 
And point with taper spire to heav'n. 



ROGERS, 



HYMN TO HUMANITY. 

PARENT of Virtue, if thine ear 
Attend not now to Sorrow's cry ; 

If now the pity-streaming tear 

Should haply on thy cheeks be dry ; 
Indulge my votive strain, O sweet Humanity. 

Come, ever welcome to my breast ! 
A tender, but a cheerful, guest ; 
Nor always in the gloomy cell 
Of life-consuming Sorrow dwell ; 
For sorrow, long-indulg'd and slow. 
Is to Humanity a foe ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 2§^ 

And grief, that makes the heart its prey-j'- - < v 

Wears sensibility away. ,j^ 

Then come, sweet nymph, instead of thee, H 

The gloomy fiend. Stupidity. i'f 

O may that fiend be banish'd far, -'^ 

Tho' passions hold eternal war ! ;' -^ 

Nor ever let me cease to know 
The pulse that throbs at joy or woe. 
Nor let my vacant cheek be dry. 
When sorrow fills a brother's eye ; 
Nor may the tear that fi-equent flows 
From private or from social woes. 
E'er make this pleasing sense depart. 
Ye Cares, oh, harden not my heart ! ' 

If the fair star of Fortune smile. 
Let not its flattering power beguile ; 
Nor borne along the fav'ring tide. 
My full sails swell with bloating pride. 
Let me from wealth but hope content. 
Remembering still it was but lent ; 
To modest merit spread my store. 
Unbar my hospitable door ; 
Nor feed, for pomp, an idle train. 
While Want unpitied pines in vain. 

If Heaven, in every purpose wise. 
The envied lot of Wealth denies ; 
If doom'd to drag Life's painful load 
Thro' Poverty's uneven road. 
And for the due bread of the day, 
Destin'd to toil as well as pray; 
To thee, Humanity, still true, 
I'll wish the good I cannot do ; 
And give the wretch that passes by, 
A soothing word — a tear — a sigh. 

Howe'er exalted, or deprest. 
Be ever mine the feeling breast. 
From me remove the stagnant mind. 
Of languid Indolence, reclin'd ; 
The soul that one long Sabbath keeps. 
And thro' the Sun's whole circle sleeps ; 
Dull Peace, that dwells in Folly's eye. 
And self-attending Vanity. 



^Q6 CLASSICAL ENGLISH FOE^t^XrC 

Alike the foolish, and the vain,^ d^c^rf* ^iiBsm 3oK 
Are strangers to the sense huma^ - -^^ mid moil 

O for that sympathetic glow hMSSf 

Which taught the holy tear to flow. 
When the prophetic eye survey 'd 
Sion in future ashes laid ; 
Or, rais'd to Heav'n, implor'd the bread 
That thousands in the desert fod ! 
Or, when the heart o'er Friendship's grave 
Sigh'd — and forgot its power to save — 

for that sympathetic glow. 
Which taught the holy tear to flow ! 

It comes : it fills my labouring breast ! 

1 feel my beating heart opprest— 
Oh ! hear that lonely widow's wail I 
See her dim eye ! her aspect pale ! 
To Heav'n she turns in deep despair. 
Her infants wonder at her pray'r. 

And, mingling tears they know not why, ^,^ ^ 

Lift up their little hands, and cry. fi c/f 

O God ! their moving sorrows see ! V^ ' j 

Support them, sweet Humanity 1 L«^ i| 

Life, fiU'd with Grief's distressful train, "t;, 

For ever asks the tear humane. 

Behold in yon unconscious grove 

The victims of ill-fated love ! 

Heard you that agonizing throe ? 

Sure this is not romantic woe .' 

The golden day of joy is o'er; 

And now they part^to meet no more. 

Assist them, hearts from anguish free ! 

Assist them, sweet Humanity ! 

Parent of Virtue, if thine ear 

Attend not now to Sorrow's cry. 
If now the pity-streaming tear 

Should haply on thy cheek be dry. 
Indulge my votive strain, O sweet Humanity ! 

LANGHORNE. 



WONDERS OF THE CREATION IN MINUTK OBJECTS. 

NOR shall the muse disdain 



To let the little noisy summer race v;.- 

Live in her lay, and flutter through her song^^ ^^ 



CtASMCAL fiNGLISH POETRY. ^^ 

Not mean, though simple; to the sun dly'd^,®"^^^*^ 
From him, they draw their animating fire. ^^* ^^"^^ 

Wak'd by his warmer ray, the I'eptile youftg^' 
Come wing'd abroad ; by the light air upborne, # 
Lighter, and full of souL From every chinfe^ ju- W 
And secret corner, whsre they slept away nr rioi8 
The wintry storms ; or rising from their tomlis^ lO 
To higher life ; by myriads, forth at once, T 

Swarming they pour; of all the varied hues 3 
The beauty-beaming parent can disclose. 
Ten thousand forms ! ten thousand different tribes; 
People the blaze. To sunny waters some 
By fatal instinct fly ; where on the pool 
They, sportive, wheel ; or, sailing down the stream. 
Are snatch'd immediate by the quick-ey'd trout, 
Or darting salmon. Through the green-wood glade 
Some love to stray ; there lodg'd, amus'd and fed. 
In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make 
The meads their choice, and visit every flower. 
And every latent herb : for the sweet task. 
To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, ) 
In what soft beds, their young yet undisclosed. 
Employs their tender care. Some to the house. 
The fold, and dairy, hungry, bend their flight; 
Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese : 
Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream 
They meet their fate; or, weltering in the bowl. 
With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire. 

But chief to heedless flies the window proves 
A constant death ; where, gloomily retir'd, 
The villain spider lives, cunning, and fierce. 
Mixture abhorr'd ! Amid a mangled heap 
Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits, 
O'erlooking all his waving snares around. 
Near the dire cell the dreadless wander oft 
Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front ; 
The prey at last ensnar'd, he dreadful darts. 
With rapid glide, along the leaning line ; 
And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs. 
Strikes backward, grimly pleas'd : the fluttering wind. 
And shriller sound declare extreme distress. 
And ask the helping hospitable handi - 

' Resounds the living surface of the ground: ' 

Norundelight^isthee^seless hum,: v« . : j i'-::'U 



268 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

To him who muses through the woods at noon : 
Or dvovrsy shepherd, as he lies reclin'd. 
With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade 
Of willows gray, close-crowding o'er the brook. 

Gradual, from these what numerous kinds descend 
Evading e'en the microscopic eye ! 
Full Nature swarms with life ; one wondrous mass 
Of animals, or atoms organiz'd. 
Waiting the vital Breath, when Parent-Heaven 
Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, 
In putrid streams, emits the living cloud 
Of pestilence. Through subterranean cells. 
Where searching sun-beams scarce can find a way. 
Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf 
Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, 
Within its winding citadel, the stone 
Holds multitudes. But chief the forest-boughs. 
That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze. 
The downy orchard, and the melting pulp 
Of mellow fruits, the nameless nations feed 
Of evanescent insects. Where the pool 
Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible. 
Amid the floating verdure, millions stray. 
Each liquid too, whether it pierces, soothes. 
Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste. 
With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream 
Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air. 
Though one transparent vacancy it seems. 
Void of their unseen people. These, conceal'd 
By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape 
The grosser eye of man ; for if the worlds 
In worlds inclos'd should on his senses burst. 
From cates ambrosial/ and the nectar'd bowl. 
He would abhorrent turn; and in dead night. 
Whence silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise. 

Let no presuming impious railer tax 
Creative Wisdom, as if aught was form'd 
In vain, or not for admirable ends. 
Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce 
His works unwise, of which the smallest part 
Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind? 
As if upon a fuU-proportion'd dome. 
On swelling columns heav'd, the pride of art ! 
A critic fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 209 

An inch around, with Wind presumption bold, 

Should dare to tax the structure of the whole. 

And lives the man whose universal eye 

Has swept at once the unbounded scheme of things ; 

Mark'd their dependence so, and firm accord. 

As with unfaltering accent to conclude 

That this availeth nought ? Has any seen 

The mighty chain of beings, lessening down 

From Infinite Perfection to the brink 

Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss ! 

From which astonished thought, recoiling turns ? 

Till then alone let zealous praise ascend. 

And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power 

Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds. 

As on our smiling eyes his servant-sun. 

Thick, in yon stream of light, a thousand ways. 
Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolved. 
The quivering nations sport ; till, tempest-wing'd. 
Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. 
E'en so luxurious man, unheeding, pass 
An idle summer's life in fortune's shine, 
A season's glitter ! Thus they flutter on 
From toy to toy, from vanity to vice ; 
Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes 
Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. 

THOMSON. 



TO SPRING. 



AGAIN the wood, and long-withdrawing vale. 

In many a tint of tender green are drest. 
Where the young leaves, unfolding, scarce conceal 

Beneath their early shade, the half-form'd nest 
Of finch or woodlark ; and the primrose pale. 

And lavish cowslip, wildly scatter'd round^ 
Give their sweet spirits to the sighing gale. 

Ah ! season of delight ! — could aught be found 
To soothe awhile the tortur'd bosom's pain. 

Of Sorrow's rankling shaft to cure the wound. 
And bring life's first delusions once again, 
*Twere surely met in thee!— thy prospect fair. 
Thy sounds of harmony, thy balmy air. 
Have power to cure all sadness — but despair ! 

CHARLOTTE SMITH, 

N3 



] 



270 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRlr. 

. ._./' " SONG. 

I TOLD my nymph, I told her true. -^ ^is^aVv 
My fields were small, my flocks were few jF^^^^ %^3ri ' 
While faltering accents spoke my fear. 
That Flavia might not prove sincere. 

Of crops destroy'd by vernal cold. 
And vagrant sheep that left my fold: 
Of these she heard, yet bore to hear ; 
And is not Flavia then sincere } 

How, chang'd by Fortune's fickle wind. 
The friends I lov'd became unkind^ 
She heard, and shed a generous tear ; 
And is not Flavia then sincere ? 

How, if she design my love to bless. 
My Flavia must not hope for dress ; 
This too she heard, and smil'd to hear ; 
And Flavia, sure, must be sincere. 

Go shear your flocks, ye jovial swains. 

Go reap the plenty of your plains ; 

Despoil'd of all which you revere, 

I know my Flavia's love sincere. shenstone. 



LESSON OF HUMILITY. 

AH, little think the gay licentious proud. 

Whom pleasure, power, and affluence, surround ; 

They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth. 

And wanton, often cruel, riot waste; 

Ah, little think they, while they dance along, 

How many feel, this very moment, death 

And all the sad variety of pain, 

How many sink in the devouring flood. 

Or more devom-ing flame. How many bleed. 

By shameful variance 'twixt man and man. 

How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms ; 

Shut from the common air, and common use 

Of theu' own limbs. How many drink the cup 

Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread 

Of misery. Sore pierc'd by wintry winds, , r: , ~ . 

How many shrink into the sordid hut '^ ^^^ ^*" ""^ 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETllY. 2^1^ 

Of cheerless poverty. How many shake 
With all^the fiercer tortures of the mind. 
Unbounded passion, madness, guilt, remorse''; 
Whence tumbled headlong from the height of life. 
They furnish matter lor the tragic muse. 14 

Ev*n in the vale, where wisdom loves to dwell, f^* 
With friendship, peace, and contemplation join'd. 
How many, rack'd with honest passions, droop 
In deep retir'd distress. How many stand ; 

Around the death-bed of their dearest friends, ;' 
And point the parting anguish. Thought, fbnd man 
Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills. 
That one incessant struggle render life. 
One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate. 
Vice in his high career would stand appall'd. 
And heedless rambling impulse learn to think ; 
The conscious heart of charity would warm, , , 
And her wide wish benevolence dilate • '' 

The social tear would rise, the social sigh. 
And into clear perfection, gradual bliss. 
Refining still, the social passions work. 

And here can I forget the generous band, 
Who^ touched with human woe, redressive search'd 
Into the horrors of the gloomy jail ? 
Unpitied, and unheard, where misery moans ; 
Where sickness pines ; where thirst and hunger burn. 
And poor misfortune feels the lash of vice. 
While in the land of liberty, the land 
Whose every strelst and public meeting glow ^\ 

With open freedom, little tyrants rag'd; ?^> 

Snatch'd the lean morsel from the starving mouth ; j- 
Tore from the cold wintry limbs the tatter'd weed ; ^ 
Ev'n robbed them of the last of comforts, sleep ; 
The free-born Briton to the dungeon chained. 
Or, as the lust of cruelty prevail'd. 
At pleasure mark'd him with inglorious stripes ; 4 

And crush'd out lives, by secret barbarous ways, n 
That for their country would have toifd, or bled. ^ 
O, great design ! if executed well, ;| 

With patient care, and wisdom-temper'd zeal. '■;/ 

Ye sons of mercy ! yet resume the search ; 1 

Drag forth the legal monsters into light, > 

Wrench from their hands oppression's iron rod, > 

And bid the cruel feel the pains they give. 

N4 



272 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Much Still untouch'd remains ; in this rank age, 

Much is the patriot's weeding hand requird. 

The toils of law, (what dark insidious men 

Have cumbrous added to perplex the truth. 

And lengthen simple justice into trade) 

How glorious were the day that saw these broke ! 

And every man within the reach of right. Thomson, 



LIFE. 

AH me, my friend ! it will not, will not last ! 

This fairy scene, that cheats our youthful eyes 
The charm dissolves ; th' aerial music's past ; 

The banquet ceases, and the vision flies. 

Where are the splendid forms, the rich perfumes, 
Where the gay tapers, where the spacious dome ? 

Vanish'd the costly pearls, the crimson plumes, 
And we, delightless, left to wander home ! 

Vain now are books, the sage's wisdom vain ! 

What has the world to bribe our steps astray ? 
Ere reason learns by study'd laws to reign. 

The weaken'd passions, self-subdu'd, obey. 

Scarce has the sun seven annual courses roll'd. 
Scarce shown the v/hole that fortune can supply ; 

Since, not the miser so caress'd his gold. 
As I, for what it gave, was heard to sigh. 

On the world's stage I wish'd some sprightly part ; 

To deck my native fleece with tawdry lace ! 
'Twas life, 'twas taste, and — -Oh my foolish heart. 

Substantial joy was fix'd in power and place. 

And you, ye works of art ! allur'd mine eye. 
The breathing picture and the living stone ; 

" Though gold, though splendour, heaven and fate deiiy, 
" Yet might I call one Titian stroke my own !" 

Smit with the charms of fame, whose lovely spoil. 
The wreath, the garland, fire the poet's pride, 

I trimm'd my lamp, consum'd the midnight oil — 
But soon the paths of health and fame divide ! 

Oft too I pray'd, 'tw^.s Nature form'd the prayer. 
To grace my native scenes, my rural home ; 

To see my trees express ray planter's care. 
And gay, on Attic models, raise my dome. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 273 

But now 'tis o'ei'j the dear delusion's o'er ! 

A stagnant breezeless air becalms my soul : 
A fond aspiring candidate no more, 

I scorn the palm, before I reach'd the goal. 

O youth ! enchanting state, profusely blest ! 

Bless ev'n obtrusive courts the frolic mind ; 
Of health neglectful, yet by health carest : 

Careless of favour, yet secure to find. 

Then glows the breast, as opening roses fair ; 

More free, more vivid, than the linnet's wing ; 
Honest as light, transparent ev'n as air, 

Tender as buds, and lavish as the spring. 

Not all the force of manhood's active might, 
Not all the craft to subtle age assign'd ; 

Not science shall extort that dear delight. 
Which gay delusion gave the tender mind. 

Adieu soft raptures, transports void of care ! 

Parent of raptures, dear deceit, adieu ! 
And you, her daughters, pining vnth despair, 

Why, why so soon her fleeting steps pursue ! 

Tedious again to curse the drizzling day ! 

Again to trace the wintry tracks of snow ! 
Oi*, sooth'd by vernal airs, again survey, 

"The self-same hawthorns bud, and cowslips blow ! 

O life ! how soon of every bliss forlorn I 

We start false joys, and urge the devious race : 

A tender prey ; that cheers our youthful morn. 
Then sinks untimely, and defrauds the chase. 

SHENSTONE. 



FIRST OF DECEMBER. 

THO' now no more the musing ear 
Delights to listen to the breeze. 
That lingers o'er the green wood shade, 
I love thee. Winter, well. 

Sweet are the harmonies of Spring, 
Sweet is the Summer's evening gale, 
Pleasant the Autumnal winds shall shake 
The many-colour'd grove. 

' ^ 5 - 



274 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POEir#,Yf.3 

And pleasant to the sober soul b-joM miF?0 
The silence of the wintry scene. 
When Nature shrouds her in her trance 

In deep tranciuillity. ^ ^;^ ^^a&a 

Not undelightfiil now to roam^^ ^ ? n,;^ ^j,f^ 
The wild heath sparkling on the sight ; ; r 
Not undelightful now to pace 

The forest's ample rounds ; 
And see the spangled branches shine, 
And mark the moss of many a hue -^ 

That varies the old tree's brown bark. 

Or o^er the gray stone spreads. 

The cluster'd berries claim the eye 
O'er the bright holly's gay green leaves : 
The ivy round the leafless oak 
Clasps its full foliage close. 

So Virtue, diffident of strength. 
Clings to Religion's firmer aid. 
And by Religion's aid upheld 
Endures calamity. 

Nor void of beauties now the spring. 
Whose waters hid from summer's sun, 
Have sooth'd the thirsty pilgrim's ear 
With more than melody. 

The green moss shines with icy glare ; 
The long grass bends in spear-like form ; 
And lovely is the silvery scene 
When faint the sun-beams smile. 

Reflection too may love the hour 
When Nature, hid in Winter's grave. 
No more expands the bursting bud. 
Or bids the flow'ret bloom. 

For Nature soon in Spring's best charms, 
Shall rise reviv'd from Winter's grave. 
Again expand the bursting bud. 

And bid the flow'ret bloom ! southey 



FIRST OF JANUARY. 



COME, melancholy Moralizer — come ! \^ 

Gather with me the dark and wintry wreath / 

With me engarland now 1; /^-^^^ 2^^ 

The Sepulchre of Time f ^^*^^^ ^^^ ^ 



■!■■■ 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POET^ftilD 275 

Come Moralizer to the funeral song ; >C^ buA 
I pour the du*ge of the departed days^a edT 
For well the funeral song >1 nadW 

Befits this solemn hour. ^^ q^h rd 

But hark ! ev*n now the merry bells ring round 
With clamorous joy to welcome in this day. 

This consecrated day, ^^ 

To Mirth and Indolence. 

Mortal ! whilst Fortune with benignant hand 
Fills to the brim thy cup of happiness. 

Whilst her unclouded sun l'-^" 

Illumes thy summer day. 

Canst thou rejoice — rejoice that Time flies fast ! 
That Night shall shadow soon thy summer sun? 

That swift the stream of Years 

Rolls to Eternity ? 

If thou hast wealth to gratify each wish, 
If pow'r be thine, remember what thou art- 
Remember thou art Man, 
And Death thine heritage ! 

Hast thou known Love— does Beauty's better sun 
Cheer thy fond heart with no capridous smile. 

Her eye all eloquence. 

Her voice all harmony ? 

Oh state of happiness ! hark how the gale 
Moans deep and hollow o'er the leafless grove ! 
Winter is dark and cold — 
Where now the charms of Spring I 

Sayst thou that Fancy paints the future scene 
In hues too sombrous.^ that the dark stol'd Maid 

With stem and frowning front 

Appals the shuddering soul ? 

And wouldst thou bid me court her fairy form 
When as she sports her in some happier mood. 

Her many-colour'd robes 

Dance varying to the sun ? 

Ah vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long road 
Leads o'er the barren mountain's stoiTti-vex'd height. 
With anxious gaze survey J^^^^^^|^p^^''' 
The fruitful far-off vale. .ra^,?a v^jix 

N6 



%70 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Oh ! there are those who love the pensive son^. 
To v/hom all sounds of Mirth are dissonant I 

There are, who at this hour 

V/ill love to contemplate ! 

For hopeless Sorrow liail the lapse of Time, 
Rejoicing when the fading orb of day 

If. sunk again in night. 

That one day more is gone ! 

And he who bears affliction's heavy load 
With patient piety, well pleas'd he knows ' 

The World a pilgrimage. 

The Grave the inn of rest ! south ey. 



HEALTH : AN ECLOGUE. 

NOW^ early shepherds o'er the meadow pass. 

And print long footsteps in the glittering grass ; 

The cows neglectfid of their pasture stand. 

By tm-ns obsequious to the milker's hand ; 

When Damon softly trod the shaven lawn^ 

Damon a youth from city cares withdrawn. 

Long was the pleasing walk he wander'd through, 

A cover'd arbour clos'd the distant view ; 

There rests the youth, and while the feather'd throng 

Raise their wild music, thus contrives a song : 

Here, wafted o'er by mild Etesian air. 
Thou, country goddess, beauteous Health ■ repair ; 
Here let my breast thro' quivering trees inhale 
Thy rosy blessings with the morning gale. 
What arc the fields, or flowers, or all I see ? 
Ah ! tasteless all, if not enjoy 'd with thee. 

Joy to my soul ! I feel the goddess nigh. 
The face of Nature cheers as well as I ; 
O'er the flat green refreshing breezes run. 
The smiling daisies blow beneath the sun; 
The brooks run purhng down with silver waves. 
The planted lanes rejoice with dancing leaves. 
The chirping birds from all the compass rove 
To tempt the tuneful echoes of the grove : 
High sunny summits, deeply-shaded dales, 
Thick mossy banks, and flowery winding vales. 
With various prospect gratify the sight. 
And bcatter fix'd attention in deb'ght 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 277 

Come, country goddess, come; nor thou suffice, 
But bring thy mountain-sister, Exercise. 
Call'd by thy lovely voice, she turns her pace. 
Her winding horn proclaims the finish'd chace ; 
She mounts the rocks, she skims the level plain. 
Dogs, hawks, and horses, crowd her early train. 
Her hardy face repels the tanning wind. 
And lines and meshes loosely float behind. 
All these as means of toil the feeble see. 
But these are helps of pleasure join'd with thee. 

Let Sloth lie softning till high noon in down. 
Or lolling fan her in the sultry town, 
UnneiVd with rest ; and turn her own disease. 
Or foster others in luxuriant ease : 
I mount the courser, call the deep-mouth'd hounds, 
The fox unkennell'd flies to covert grounds ; 
I lead where stags thro' tangled tliickets tread, 
And shake the saplings with tlieir branching head ; 
I make the falcons wing their airy way, 
And soar to seize, or stooping, strike their prey ; 
To snare the fish, I fix the luring bait; 
To wound the fowl, I load the gun with fate. 
'Tis thus thro' change of exercise I range. 
And strength and pleasure rise from eveiy change. 

Here, beauteous Health, for all the year remain. 
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again : 
Oh come, thou goddess of my rural song. 
And bring thy daughter, calm Content, along. 
Dame of the ruddy cheek and laughing eye. 
From whose bright presence clouds of son-ow fly : 
For her I mow my walks, I plat my bowers. 
Clip my low hedges, and support my flowers ; 
To welcome her, this summer-seat I di*est. 
And here I court her when she comes to rest ; 
When she from exercise to learned ease 
Shall change again, and teach the change to please. 

Now friends conversing my soft hours refine. 
And Tully's Tusculum revives in mine : 
Now to grave books I bid the mind retreat. 
And such as make me rather good than great , 
Or o'er the works of easy Fancy rove. 
Where flutes and innocence amuse the grove ^^-,1^.^ ^., . 



278 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The native bard, that on Sicilian plains :Mm^ ski oZ 
First sung the lowly manners of the swains ; Cl 

Or Maro's Muse, that in the fairest light T 

Paints rural prospects and the charms of sight; 
These soft amusements bring Content along. 
And Fancy, void of Sorrow, turns to song. 

Here, beauteous Health, for all the year remain ; 

When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again. 

PARNELL. 



DISPUTE BETWEEN NOSE AND EYES. 

BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose," 
The spectacles set them unhappily wrong : 
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows. 
To which the said spectacles ought to belong. 

So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause 
With a great deal of wit, and a wig full of learning , 
While chief baron Ear, sat to balance the laws. 
So fam'd for his talent in nicely discerning 

In behalf of the Nose it will quickly appear. 
And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find. 
That the' Nose has had spectacles always in wear. 
Which amounts to possession time out of mind. 

Then holding the spectacles up to the court — 
Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle. 
As wide as the ridge of the Nose is, in short, 
Design'd to sit close to it, just like a saddle. 

Again; would your lordship a moment suppose 
(Tis a case that has happen'd, and may be again) 
That the visage or countenance had not a nose. 
Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacleis then ? 

On the whole it appears, that my argument shows. 
With a reasoning, the court will never condemn. 
That the spectacles plainly were made for the nose. 
And the nose was as plainly intended for them. 

Then shifting his side (as the lawyer knows how,) 
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes: 
But what were his arguments few people know, 
Fot the court did not thiiik they were equally wise. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POfil'llV. 279 

So liis lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone. 
Decisive and clear, without one if or but, /^ 

That, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, ,(V 
By day-light, or candle-light. Eyes should be shut, ^ii 

COWPER. 



FOLLY OF t»RIDE FOUNDED ON HIGH BIRTH. 

WHEN genius grac'd with lineal splendour glows. 
When title shines with ambient virtues crown'd. 

Like some fair almond's flowery pomp it shows 
The pride, the perfume, of the regions round. 

Then learn, ye fair ! to soften splendour's ray ; 

Endure the swain, the youth of low degree ; j 

Let meekness join'd its temperate beam display ; 

'Tis the mild verdure that endears the tree. 

Pity the sandal'd swain, the shepherd's boy ; r 

He sighs to brighten a neglected name ; ;/ 

Foe to the dull applause of vulgar joy. 

He mourns his lot ; he wishes, merits, fame. 

In vain to groves and pathless vales we fly ; 

Ambition there the bowery haunt invades ; 
Fame's awful rays fatigue the courtier's eye. 

But gleam still lovely through the chequer'd shades. 

Vainly, to guard from love's unequal chain. 
Has fortune rear'd us in the rural grove ; 

Should ****'s illume the desert plain, 
Ev'n I may wonder, and ev'n I must love. 

Nor unregarded sighs the lowly hind ; 

Though you contemn, the gods respect his vow j 
Vindictive rage awaits the scornful mind. 

And vengeance, too severe ! the gods allow. 

On Sarum's plain I met a wandering fair ; 

The look of sorrow, lovely, still she bore; 
Loose flow'd the soft redundance of h(|r hair. 

And, on her brow, a flowery wreath she wore, I 

Oft stooping as she stray 'd, she cuU'd the piid^£j5£fx 
Of every plain ; she pillag'd every grove; ;• {| 

The fading chaplet daily she supply 'd, j 

And still li§r htand some various g^ri^nd jf oyp. ^^^ 



280 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Erroneous fancy shap'd her wild attire ; 

From Bethlem's walls the poor lymphatic stray'd ; 
Seem'd with her air her accent to conspire. 

When, as wild fancy taught her, thus she said : 

" Hear me, dear youth ! oh hear a hapless maid. 
Sprung from the scepter'd line of ancient kings ! 

Scom'd by the world, I ask thy tender aid ; 
Thy gentle voice shall whisper kinder things. 

The world is frantic — fly the race profane — 
Nor I, nor you, shall its compassion move ; 

Come friendly let us wander, and complain. 

And tell me, shepherd ! hast thou seen my love ? 

My love is young — but other loves are young ; 

And other loves are fair, and so is mine ; 
An air divine discloses whence he sprung ; 

He is my love, who boasts that air divine. 

No vulgar Damon robs me of my rest, 

lanthe listens to no vulgar, vow ; 
A prince, from gods descended, fires her breast ; 

A brilliant crown distinguishes his brow. 

What, shall I stain the glories of my race ? 

More clear, more lovely bright, than Hesper's beam ? 
The porcelain pure with vulgar dirt debase ? 

Or mix with puddle the pellucid stream ? 

See through these veins the sapphire current shine ' 
'Twas Jove's own nectar gave the ethereal hue : 

Can base plebeian forms contend with mine ? 
Display the lovely white, or match the blue ? 

The painter strove to trace its azure ray ; 

He chang'd his colours, and in vain he strove ; 
He frown'd— I smiling view'd the faint essay ; 

Poor youth ! he little knew it fiow'd from Jove. 

Pitying his toil, the wondrous truth I told ; 

How amorous Jove trepanned a mortal fair ; 
How through the race the generous current roll'd. 

And mock'd the poet's art, and painter's care. 

Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, sprung 
Our sacred race ! through demi-gods convey d ; 

And he, ally'd to Phoebus, ever young. 

My godhke boy, must wed their duteous maid. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETR'ti^' 28F^ 

Oft when a mortal vow profanes ray ears, ' ' ^ 
My sire's dread fury murmurs through the sky ; 

And should I yield — his instant rage appears ; 
He darts the uplifted vengeance^, and I die. 

Have you not heard unwonted thunders roll ! 

Have you not seen more horrid lightnings glare ! 
'Twas then a vulgar love ensnar'd my soul ; 

'Twas then — I hardly scap'd the fatal snare. 

'Twas then a peasant pour'd his amorous vow. 

All as I listen'd to his vulgar strain ; — 
Yet such his beauty — would my birth allow. 

Dear were the youth, and blissful were the plain. 

But oh ! I faint ! why wastes my vernal bloom. 
In fruitless searches ever doom'd to rove ? 

My nightly dreams the toilsome path resume, 
And I shall die — before I find my love. 

When last I slept, methought my ravish'd eye. 
On distant heaths his radiant form survey'd ; 

Though night's thick clouds encompassed all the sky. 
The gems that bound his brow, dispell'd the shade. 

O how this bosom kindled at the sight ! 

Led by their beams I urg'd the pleasing chase ! 
Till, on a sudden, these withheld their light — 

All, all things envy the sublime embrace. 

But now no more — behind the distant grove. 

Wanders my destin'd youth, and chides my stay : 

See, see, he grasps the steel — forbear, my love — 
lanthe comes ; thy princess hastes away." 

Scornful she spoke, and heedless of reply. 
The lovely maniac bounded o'er the plain : 

The piteous victim of an angry sky ! 

Ah me ! the victim of her proud disdain ! 

SHENSTONE. 



CHELSEA AND GREENWICH HOSPITALS. 

NOR yet to pleasing objects are confin'd 
The silent feasts of the reflecting mind. 
Danger and death a dread delight inspire ; 
And the bald veteran glows with wonted fire. 



12852 GDASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

When, richly bronz'd by many a Supatner-soHif 

He counts his scars, and tells what deeds were done : 

Go, with old Thames, view Chelsea's glorious pile ; 

And ask thp shatter'd hero, whence his smile? 

Go, with the splendid domes of Greenwich ;-— go. 

And own what raptures from Reflection flow. 

Hail, noblest structures imag'd in the wave ! 

A nation's grateful tribute to the brave ! 

Hail, blest retreats from war and shipwreck, hail ! 

That oft arrest the wondering stranger's sail. 

Long have ye heard the narratives of age, 

The battle's havock, and the tempest's rage ; 

Long have ye known Reflection's genial ray 

Gild the calm close of Valour's various day I Rogers, 



ODE TO CONTENT. 

O THOU, the nymph with placid eye ; 
O seldom found, yet ever nigh. 

Receive my temp'rate vow : 
Not all the storms that shake the pole 
Can e'er disturb thy halcyon soul. 

And smooth, unalter'd brow. 

O come in simplest vest array'd. 
With all thy sober cheer display'd. 

To bless my longing sight ; 
Thy mien compos'd, thy even pace. 
Thy meek regard, thy matron grace. 

And chaste subdu'd delight. 

No more by varying passions beat, 
O gently guide my pilgrim feet 

To find thy hermit cell ; 
Where in some pure and equal sky, -^ 

Beneath thy soft indulgent eye, V- 

The modest virtues dwell. 

Simplicity, in attic vest. 

And Innocence, with candid breast. 

And clear undaunted eye ; 
And Hope, ^ho points to distant years 
Fair op'ning thro' this vale of tears, .. ,. ^ i, '^, 

A v^sta to the sk^'. 5::»xiJ ^mo!!>fs>w bnA 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. MS 

There Health, thro' whose kind bosom glide;/? 
The temperate joys in even tide. 

That rarely ebb or flow; 
And Patience there, thy sister meek, .-mimA 
- Presents her mild unvarying cheek, l^/ ^qQ 

To meet th' offer'd blow. ; ^^ f^^j^ 

Her influence taught the Phrygian sage ' ' 
A tyrant master's wanton rage. 

With settled smiles to meet : 
Inur'd to toil and bitter bread. 
He bow'd his meek submitted head, ^ 

And kiss'd thy sainted feet. 

But thou^ O nymph, retir'd and coy I 
In what brown hamlet dost thou joy 

To tell thy tender tale ? 
The lowliest children of the ground. 
Moss-rose, and violet, blossom round, 

And lily of the vale, 

say, what soft propitious hour 

1 best may choose to hail thy power. 

And court thy gentle sway ? 
When Autumn, friendly to the Muse, 
Shall thy own modest tints diffuse. 

And shed thy milder ray } 

When Eve, her dev/y star beneath. 
Thy balmy spii'it loves to breathe. 

And ev'ry storm is laid ? 
If such an hour was e'er thy choice. 
Oft let me hear thy soothing voice. 

Low whisp'ring thro' the shade. 

BARBAULD. 

MAY MORNING. 

Now the bright Moming star. Day's harbinger. 
Comes dancing fr<mi the east, and leads with her 
The flow'ry May^ who from her green lap throws 
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. 

Hail, bounteous May ! that dost inspire 

Mirth and youth, and warm desire; 

Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 

Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
Thus we salute thee with our early song. 
And welcome thee, and wish thee long. miltok. 



28'i CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



THE SHORTNESS OF MAN S LIFE. 

MARK that swift arrov,^^ how it cuts the air. 

How it outruns thy following eye ! 

Use all persuasions now, and try 
If thou canst call it back, or stay it there. 

That way it went, but thou shalt find 

No track is left behind. 

Fool ! 'tis thy life, and the fond archer thou. 

Of all the time thou'st shot away^ 

I'll bid thee fetch but yesterday. 
And it shall be too hard a task to do. 

Besides repentance, what cau'st find 

That it hath left behind? 

Our life is carry'd with too strong a tide, 

A doubtful cloud our substance bears. 

And is the horse of all our years ; 
Each day doth on a winged whirlwind ride. 

We and our glass run out, and must 

Both render up our dust- 
But his past life, v/ho without grief can see. 

Who never thinks his end too near. 

But says to Fame, thou art mine heir ; 
That man extends Life's natural brevity. 

This is, this is the only way 

To out-live Nestor in a day. cowley. 



MORNING. 



SEE the Star that leads the day. 
Rising, shoots a golden ray. 
To make the shades of darkness go 
From heaven above and earth below ; 
And warns us early with the sight. 
To leave the beds of silent night ; 
From a heart sincere and sound. 
From its very deepest ground ; 
Send Devotion up on high, 
Wing'd with heat to reach the sky. 
See the time for sleep has run. 
Rise before or with the sun ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 285 

Lift thy hands, and Iiumblj^ pray 

The fountain of eternal day ; 

That, as the light serenely fair. 

Illustrates all the tracts of air. 

The sacred Spirit so may rest. 

With quickening beams upon thy breast ; 

And kindly clean it all within. 

From darker blemishes of sin ; 

And shine with grace, until we view 

The realm it gilds with glory too. 

See the day that dawns in air. 

Brings along its toil and care : 

From the lap of Night it springs. 

With heaps of business on its wings ; 

Prepare to meet them in a mind. 

That bows submissively resign'd ; 

That would to works appointed fall. 

That knows that God has ordered all. 

And whether, with a small repast. 

We break the sober morning fast ; 

Or in our thoughts and houses lay 

The future methods of the day ; 

Or early walk abroad to meet 

Our business, with industrious feet : 

Whatever we think, whate'er we do. 

His glory still be kept in view. 

O, giver of eternal bh'ss. 

Heavenly Father, grant me this ; 

Grant it all, as well as me. 

All whose hearts are fix'd on thee ; 

Who revere thy Son above. 

Who thy sacred Spirit love. parnell. 



ETERNAL PROVIDENCE. 

LIGHT of the world. Immortal Mind ; 
Father of all the human kind ! 
Whose boundless eye that knows no rest. 
Intent on Nature's ample breast, 
Explores the space of earth and skies. 
And sees eternal incense rise ! 
To thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Forgive, while I presume to praise 



f^i?r CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Tho' thou this transient being gave. 
That shortly sinks into the grave; 
Yet 'twas thy goodness, still to give ^ .^^ -^^ 
A being that can think and live ; HOL 
In all thy works thy wisdom see. 
And stretch its tow 'ring mind to thee. 
To thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Forgive, while I presume to praise. 

And stilj this poor contracted span, ^^r , 
This life, that bears the name of m^n; ^ 
From thee derives its vital ray. 
Eternal source of life and day! -o i 

Thy bounty still the sunshine pours, A 
That gilds its mom and ev'ning hours, ^^ 3 
To thee my humble voice I raise; - ^^A 
Forgive, while I presume to praiset; -.^ ,-^^^ 

Thro* Error's maze, thro' Folly's nighty "^-. 
The lamp of Reason lends me light ; 
Where stem affliction waves her rod. 
My heart confides in thee, my God ! 
When Nature shrinks, oppress'd with woes. 
E'en then she finds in thee repose. 
To thee my humble voice I raise ; 
Forgive, while I presume to praise. 

Affliction flies, and Hope retums; 

Her lamp with brighter splendour bums ; 

Gay Love with all his smiUng train. 

And Pedce and Joy are here again. 

These, these, I know, 'twas thine to give ; 

I trusted ; and, behold, I live ! 

To thee my humble voice I raise ; 7/ 

Forgive, while I presume to praise. 

O may I still thy favour prove! ' 

Still grant me gratitude and love. 
Let truth and virtue guard my heart ; 
I Nor peace, nor hope, nor joy depart: 

But yet, whate'er my life may be. 
My heai't shall still repose on thee J 
To thee my humble voice I raise! 
Forgive, wiiile L presume to praise, langrorne. 



ChmsmAl, ENGLISH POETRY. > 287^ 

^ JOHN GILPIN. ^^ 

JOHN GILPIN was a citizen $% 

Of credit and renown ; -C 

A train- band captain eke was he h 

Of famous London town. T 

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear. 

Though wedded we have been . 

These twice ten tedious years, yet we ^^ 

No holiday have seen. I 

To-morrow is our wedding-day, ^ 

And we will then repair }■ 

Unto the Bell at Edmonton, 
All in a chaise and pair. 

My sister and my sister's child. 

Myself and children three. 
Will fill the chaise, so you must ride 

On horseback after we. 

He soon replied, I do admiae 

Of womenkind but one ; 
And you are she, my dearest dear, 

Therefore it shall be done. 

I am a linen-draper bold. 

As all the world doth kno^v, 
And my good friend, the calender, H 

Will lend his horse to go. D 

Quoth Mistress Gilpin, that's well said ; > 

And, for that wine is dear. 
We will be furnish'd with our own, 4' 

Which is both bright and clear. 

John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife ; 

O'eijoy'd was he to find 
That, though on pleasure she was bent. 

She had a frugal mind. 

The morning came, the chaise waa broughi^: 

But yet was not aUow'd >?i 

To drive up to the door, lest all '|J 

Should say that she was proud. 5 



^Hm- CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

So three doors off the chaise was sta/d. 

Where they did all get in ; 
Six precious souls, and all agog 

To dash through thick and thin. 

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels. 

Were never folks so glad ; 
The stones did rattle underneath 

As if Cheapside were mad. 

John Gilpin at his horse's side 

Seiz'd fast the flowing mane ; 
And up he got in haste to ride. 

But soon came down again. 

For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he, 

His journey to begin. 
When turning round his head, he saw 

Three customers come in. 

So down he came ; for loss of time, 

Ahhough it griev'd him sore ; 
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 

Would trouble him much more. 

'Twas long before the customers 

Were suited to their mind j 
When Betty, screaming, came down stairs, 

" The wine is left behind !" 

Good lack ! quoth he — yet bring it me, 

My leathern belt likewise, 
In which I bear my trusty sword 

When I do exercise. 

Now Mistress Gilpin, careful soul! 

Had two stone bottles found. 
To hold the liquor that she lov'd. 

And kept it safe and sound. 

Each bottle had a curling ear. 

Through which the belt he drew ; 

And hung a bottle on each side, 
To make his balance true. 

Then over all, that he might be 

Equipped from top to toe. 
His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat. 

He manfully did throw. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 28^ 

Now see him mounted once again 

Upon his nimble steed. 
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones 

With caution and good heed. 

But finding soon a smoother road 

Beneath his well-shod feet. 
The snorting beast began to trot. 

Which gaird him in his seat 

Sa, fair and softly, John, he cried, 

But John he cried in vain ; 
That trot became a gallop soon, 

In spite of curb and rein. 

So stooping down, as needs he must 

Who cannot sit upright, 
He grasp'd the mane with both his hands, 

And eke with all his might. 

His horse, who never in that sort 

Had handled been before. 
What thing upon his back had got 

Did wonder more and more. 

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought. 

Away went hat and wig ; 
He Httle dreamt, when he set out, 

O' running such a rig. 

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly. 

Like streamer long and gay. 
Till, loop and button failing both. 

At last it flew away. 

Then might all people well discern 

The bottles he had slung : 
A bottle swinging at each side, 

As hath been said or sung. 

The dogs did bark, the children screamed. 

Up flew the windows all ; 
And ev'ry soul cried out. Well done ! 

As loud as he could bawl. 

Away went Gilpin — who but he ? 

His fame soon spread around — 
He carries weight ! he rides a race ! ~^ 

'Tisibr a thousand pound. 

O 



290 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

And still as fast as he drew near, 

'Twas wonderful to view. 
How in a trice the turnpike-men 

Their gates wide open threw. 

And now as he went bowing down 

His reeking head full low. 
The bottles twain behind his back 

Were shatter'd at a blow. 

Down ran the wine into the road. 

Most piteous to be seen. 
Which makes his horse's flanks to smoke 

As they had basted been. 

But still he seem*d to carry weight 
With leathern girdle brac'd ; 

For all might see the bottle-necks 
Still dangling at his waist. 

Thus all through merry Islington 
'^ These gambols he did play. 

And till he came unto the Wash 
Of Edmonton so gay. 

And there he threw the wash about 

On both sides of the way. 
Just like unto a trundling mop. 

Or a wild goose at play. 

At Edmonton his loving wife 

From balcony espied 
Her tender husband, wond'ring much 

To see how he did ride. 

Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! here's the house- 

They all at once did cry ; 
The dinner waits, and we are tir'd : 

Said Gilpin- — so am I. 

But yet his horse was not a whit 

Inclin'd to tarry there ; 
For why ? his owner had a house 

Full ten miles off, at Ware. 

So like an arrow swift he flew. 

Shot by an archer strong ; 
So did he fly — which brings me to 

The middle of my song. 



r 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. £91 

Away went Gilpin, out of breath. 

And sore against his will, 
Till at his friend's, the calender's 

His horse at last stood still. 

The calender, amaz'd to see. 

His neighbour in such trim. 
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate. 

And thus accosted him : 

What news } what news ? your tidings tell. 

Tell me ye must and shall — 
Say why bare-headed you are come. 

Or why you come at all ? 

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit. 

And lov'd a timely joke ; 
And thus unto the calender 

In merry guise he spoke : 

I came because your horse would come, 

And, if I well forbode. 
My hat and wig will soon be here. 

They are upon the road. 

The calender, right glad to find 

His friend in merry pin, 
Retum'd him not a single word, 

But to the house went in. 

When straight he came with hat and wig, 

A wig that flow'd behind, 
A hat not much the worse for wear. 

Each comely in its kind. 

He held them up, and in his turn 

Thus show'd his ready wit : 
My head is twice as big as your's. 

They therefore needs must fit. 

But let me scrape the dirt away 

That hangs upon your face ; 
And stop and eat, for well you may 

Be in a hungry case. 

Said John, It is my wedding-day, 

And all the world would stare. 
If wife should dine at Edmonton, 

And I should dine at Ware^ 

02 



292 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

So turning to his horse, he said, 

I am in haste to dine : 
'Twas for your pleasure you came here, 

You shall go back for mine. 

Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast ! 

For which he paid full dear ; 
Jc* or while he spake, a braying ass 

Did sing most loud and clear ; 

Whereat his horse did snort, as he 

Had heard a lion roar ; 
And gallop'd off with all his might. 

As he had done before. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
Went Gilpin's hat and wig ; 

He lost them sooner than at first. 
For why ? they were too big. 

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw 
Her husband posting down 

Into the country far away. 
She puird out half-a-crown ; 

And thus unto the youth she said 
That drove them to the Bell, 

This shall be yours when you bring back 
My husband safe and well. 

The youth did ride, and soon did meet 

John coming back amain. 
Whom in a trice he tried to stop 

By catching at his rein ; 

But not performing what he meant. 
And gladly would have done ; 

The frighted steed he frighted more. 
And made him faster run. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
Went post-boy at his heels ; 

The post-boy's horse right glad to miss 
The lumb'ring of the wheels. 

Six gentlemen upon the road 

Thus seeing Gilpin fly. 
With post-boy scamp'ring in the rear. 

They rais'd the hue and cry : — 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 295 

Stop thief! stop thief! — a highwayman ! 

Not one of them was mute ; 
And all and each that pass'd that way 

Did join in the pursuit. 

And now the turnpike gates again 

Flew open in short space ; 
The toll-men thinking, as before, 

That Gilpin rode a race. 

And so he did, and won it too. 

For he got first to town ; 
Nor stopp'd till where he first got up 

He did again get down. 

Now let us sing. Long live the king. 

And Gilpin_, long live he ; 
And when he next doth ride abroad, 

May I be there to see ! cowper. 



DOVER CLIFFS. 

ON these white cliffs, that, calm above the flood. 
Uplift their shadowing heads, and, at their feet. 
Scarce hear the surge that has for ages beat. 

Sure many a lonely wand'rer has stood ! 

And,, whilst the lifted murmur met his ear. 
And o'er the distant billows the still Eve 
Saird slow, has thought of all his heart must leave 

To-morrow ! of the fi'iends he lov'd most dear ! 

Of social scenes, from which be wept to pai't : 
But if, like me, he knew how fruitless all 
The thoughts Uiat would full fain tlie past recal. 

Soon would he quell the risings of his heart. 

And brave the wild winds and unhearing tide. 

The World his country, and his God liis guide ! 

BOWLES. 



THE WORLD A STAGE. 

ALL the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players ; 
They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts. 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 

OS 



204) CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Mewling and puking in the nurse's amis : 

And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel 

And shining morning face, creeping like snail, 

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover ; 

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad 

Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, the soldier. 

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard. 

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel. 

Seeking the bubble reputation 

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice. 

In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd. 

With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut. 

Full of wise saws and modern instances. 

And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 

Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon. 

With spectacles on's nose, and pouch on's side ; 

His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide 

For his shrunk shanks ; and his big manly voice, 

Turning again towards childish treble, pipes 

And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all. 

That ends this strange eventful history, 

Is second childishness, and mere oblivion. 

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 

SHAKESPEARE, 



THE HAPPY MAN. 

HE'S not the happy Man, to whom is giv'n 

A plenteous fortune by indulgent Heaven ; 

Whose gilded roofs on shining columns rise. 

And painted walls enchant the gazer's eyes ; 

Whose table flows with hospitable cheer. 

And all the various bounty of the year ; 

Whose valleys smile, whose gardens breathe the spring. 

Whose carved mountains bleat, and forests sing ; 

For whom the cooling shade in Summer twines. 

While his full cellars give their generous wines ; 

From whose wide fields unbounded Autumn pours 

A golden tide into his swelling stores ; 

Whose Winter laughs : for whom the liberal gales 

Stretch the big sheet, and toiling Commerce sails ; 

When yielding crowds attend, and pleasure serves ; 

While youth, and health, and vigour, string his nerves. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 2^5 

Ev'n not all these, in one rich lot combin'd. 

Can make the Happy Man, without the Mind ; 

Where Judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys 

The chain of Reason, with unerring gaze ; 

Where Fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes. 

His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise ; 

Where social Love exerts her soft command. 

And plays the passions with a tender hand ; 

Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife. 

And all the moral harmony of life. Thomson. 



CATO S SOLILOQtJy. 

it must be so — Plato, thou reason'st well — 

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire. 

This longing after immortality ? 

Or whence this sacred tkead and inward liorror, 

Of falling into nought ? Why shrinks the soul 

Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 

'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us ; 

'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter. 

And intimates eternity to man. 

Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 

Througli what variety of untried being. 

Thro' what new scenes and changes must we pass ! 

The wide, th' unbounded prospect, lies before me ; 

But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it. 

Here will 1 hold. If there's a power above us, 

(And that there is ail nature cries aloud. 

Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue ; 

And that which he delights in must be happy. 

But when, or where ? — this world was made for Csesai-. 

I'm weary of conjectures — this must end 'era. 

£La7/i?ig his hand on his sivord. 
Thus am I doubly arm'd ; my death and life. 
My bane and antidote, are both before ma 
This in a moment brings me to an end ; 
But this informs me I shall never die. 
The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles 
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. 
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years. 
But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, 

O 4 



296 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Unhurt amidst the war of elements. 

The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. 

What means this heaviness that hangs upon me ? 
Tliis lethargy that creeps through all my senses ? 
Nature oppress'd, and harass'd out with care. 
Sinks down to rest This once I'll favour her. 
That my awaken'd soul may tiike her flight, 
llenew'd in all her strength, and fresh with life. 
An off 'ling fit for Heaven. Let guilt or fear 
Disturb man's rest ; Cato knows neither of 'em, 
lndifl''rent in his choice, to sleep or die. addison. 



DOMESTIC PEACE. 

TELL me, on what holy ground. 

May Domestic Peace be found ? 

Halcyon Daughter of the skies. 

Far on fearful wings she flies. 

From the pomp of scepter'd State, 

From the Rebel's noisy hate ; 

In a cottag'd vale she dwells 

List'ning to the Sabbath bells ! 

Still around her steps are seen 

Spotless Honour's meeker mien. 

Love, the sire of pleasing fears. 

Sorrow smiling through her tears. 

And conscious of the past employ 

Memory, bosom-spring of joy ! coleridge 



ON SLEEP. 



-O GENTLE Sleep, 



Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 

That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down, 

And steep my senses in forgetfulness ! 

Why rather. Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs. 

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee. 

And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber 

Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great. 

Under the canopies of costly state. 

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody ? 

O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile. 

In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the kingly couch, 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 2^1^ 

A watch-case to a common larum-beli? MnmB tfX^dnl} 

Wilt thou, upon the high and giddy masl> 

Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 

In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; uil mi-'l 

And in the visitation of the winds, • Tff^tsW 

Who take the I'uffian billows by the top, tj' 

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging tliem .I 

With deaf'ning clamours in the slipp'ry shrouds^ Sisail 

That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? -■■^}i-y^^f^ 

Canst thou, O pai-tiai Sleep ! give thy repose 

To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude : 

And, in the calmest and the stillest night. 

With all appliances and means to boot, 

Deny it to a king ? Shakespeare. 



ORATION OF MARK ANTONY OVER THE BODY OF C^SAR. 

FRIENDS, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your esrs, 

I come to bury Ccesax, not to praise him. 

The evil that men do lives after them ; 

The good is often interred with tlieir bones 

So let it be with Csssar ! The noble Brutus 

Hath told you, Csesar was ambitious : 

If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 

And grievously hath Cs&sar answer'd it. 

Here, under the leave of Brutus, and the rest, 

(For Brutus is an honourable man; 

So are they all, all honourable men) 

Com.e I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 

He was my friend, faithful, and just to me : 

But Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honourable man. 

He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 

Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? 

When that the poor have cried, C&ssar hath wept ; 

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 

And Brutus is an honourable man. 

You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown. 

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? 

Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; 



298 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

And, sure, he is an honourable man. 
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke. 
But here I am to speak what I do know. 
You all did love him once, not without cause ; 
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? 
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts. 
And men have lost their reason ! — Bear with me ; 
My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 
And I must pause till it comes back to me. 

«r « « ^ « « » 

But yesterday the word of C£esar might 
Have stood against the world : now lies he there. 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 

masters ! if I were dispos'd to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong. 
Who, you all know, are honourable men : 

I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 

To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you. 

Than I will wrong such honourable men< 

But here's a pai'chment with the seal of Caesar-; 

I found it in his closet, 'tis his will ; 

Let but the commons hear this testament 

(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) 

And they would go and kiss dead C£esar's wounds. 

And dip their napkins in his sacred blood ; 

Yea, beg a hair of him, for memory. 

And, dying, mention it within their wills. 

Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy. 

Unto their issue. Shakespeare. 



INVITATION TO A FRIEND AT COURT. 

IF you can leave for books the crowded Court, 
And gen'rous Bourdeaux for a glass of Port, 
To these sweet solitudes, without delay. 
Break from the world's impertinence away. 

Soon as the sun the face of Nature gilds. 
For health and pleasure will we range the fields ; 
O'er her gay scenes and opening beauties run. 
While all the vast creation is our own. 
But when his golden globe with faded light 
Yields to the solemn empire of the night ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 299 

And in her. sober majesty the moon 

With milder glories mounts her silver throne ; 

Amidst ten thousand orbs with splendour crown'd. 

That pour their tributary beams around, 

Thro' the long levell'd tube our strengthen'd sight 

Shall mark distinct the spangles of the night : 

From world to world shall dart the boundless eye, 

And stretch from star to star, from sky to sky. 

The buzzing insect families appear. 
When suns unbind the rigour of the year ; 
Quick glance the myriads round the evening bower. 
Hosts of a day, or nations of an hour. 
Astonish'd we shall see th' unfolding race, 
Stretch'd out in bulk, within the polish'd glass ; 
Thro' whose small convex a new world we spy. 
Ne'er seen before, but by a Seraph's eye I 
So long in darkness shut from human kind 
Lay half God's wonders to a point confin'd ! 
But in one peopled drop we now survey 
In pride of power some little monster play ; 
O'er tribes invisible he reigns alone, | 

And struts a tyrant of a world his own. 

Now will we study Homer's awful page. 
Now warm our souls with Pindar's noble rage : 
To English lays shall Flaccus' lyre be strung, 
And lofty Virgil speak the British tongue. 
Immortal Virgil ! at thy sacred name 
I tremble now, and now I pant for fame; 
With eager hopes this moment I aspire 
To catch or emulate thy glorious fire ; 
The next, pursue the rash attempt no more. 
But drop the quill, bow, wonder, and adore ; 
By thy strong genius overcome and aw'd ! 
That fir'd from Heaven ! that spirit of a god ! 
Pleas'd and transported with thy name I tend 
Beyond my theme, forgetful of my friend ; 
And from my first design by rapture led. 
Neglect the living poet for the dead. pitt. 



ON A COUNTRY LIFE. 

OH ! knew he but his happiness, of men 
The happiest he, who, far from public rage, 

6 



SOO CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Deep m the vale, with a choice few retir'd. 

Drinks the pure pleasures of the rural life. 

What tho' the dome be wanting, whose proad gate 

Each morning vomits out the sneaking crowd 

Of flatt'rers false, and in their turn abus'd ? 

Vile intercourse ! What tho* the glitt'ring robe. 

Of ev'ry hue reflected light can give. 

Or floating loose, or stiff with mazy gold. 

The pride and gaze of fools ! oppress him not ? 

What tho', from utmost land and sea purvey'd. 

For him each rarer tributary life 

Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps 

With luxury and death ? What tho' his bowl 

Flames not with costly juice ; nor sunk in beds. 

Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night. 

Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state ? 

What tho' he knows not those fantastic joys 

That still amuse the wanton, still deceive, 

A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain ; 

Their hollow moments undelighted all ? 

Sure peace is his ; a solid life, estrang'd 

From disappointment and fallacious hope . 

Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich. 

In herbs and fruits. Whatever greens the spring. 

When heav'n descends in show'rs ; or bends the bongh. 

When summer reddens, and when autumn beams ; 

Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies 

Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap, 

These are not wanting ; nor the milky drove. 

Luxuriant, spread o'er all the lowing vale ; 

Nor bleating mountains ; nor the chide of streams. 

And hum of l)ees, inviting sleep sincere 

Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade. 

Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay ; 

Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song, 

Dim grottos, gleaming lakes, and fountains clear. 

Here, too, dwell simple truth, plain innocence, 

Unsully'd beauty, sound unbroken J^outh^ 

Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd. 

Health ever blooming, unambitious toil. 

Calm contemplation, and poetic ease. 

Let others bi'ave the flood in quest of gain. 
And beat for joyless months the gloomy wave. 
Let such as deem it glory to destroy. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. Wl 

Rush into blood, the sack of cities seek, ' *' *^'*^ ^'^ ?I'^^^ 

Unpierc'd, exulting in the widow's wail, ' ''t Kyii^sn^j 

The virgin's shriek, and infant's trembling cry;*'^"^ iKo'/^ 

Let some, far distant from their native soil, 

Urg'd or by want or harden'd avarice. 

Find other lands beneath another sun. ;- '^ ; ; 

Let this thro' cities work his eager way, ^^-^^ x^^.^ lO 

By legal outrage and establish'd guile, i^BOU iO 

The social sense extinct ; and that ferment -^'^^ '^^^^^ 

Mad into tumult the seditious herd. 

Or melt them down to slavery ! let these 

Ensnare the wretched in the toils of law. 

Fomenting discord and perplexing riglit, 

An iron race ; and those of fairer front, 

But equal inhumanity, in courts. 

Delusive pomp, and dark cabals, delight. 

Wreathe the, deep bow, diffuse the lying smile. 

And tread the weary labyrinth of state ; 

While he, from all the stormy passions free ;" 

That restless men involve, hears, and but hears, ^ 

At distance safe, the human tempest roar, 

Wrapp'd close in conscious peace. The fall of kings. 

The rage of nations, and the crush of states. 

Move not the man who, from the world escap'd, 

In still retreats, and flow'ry solitudes, 

To Nature's voice attends, from month to montb^ 

And day to day, thro' the revolving year ; 

Admiring, sees her in her ev'ry shape. 

Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart. 

Takes what she lib'ral gives, nor thinks of more. 

He, when young Spring protrudes the bursting genls,- 

Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful gale ■ 

Into his freshen'd soul ; her genial hours 

He full enjoys ; and not a beauty blows. 

And not an op'ning blossom breathes, in vain. - - 

The touch of kindred, too, and love he feels ; -'^Jl imd 

The modest eye, whose beams on his alone • s^^H 

Ecstatic shine; the little strong embrace -^ - 

Of prattling children, twin'd around his neck. 

And emulous to please him, calling forth 

The fond parental soul. Nor purpose gay; 

Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns : 

For happiness and true philosophy 

Are of the social, still, and smiling kind. tiJBS ml 



302 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

This is the life which those who fret in guilt, 

And guilty cities, never knew ; the life 

Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt, 

When angels dwelt, and God himself, with man ! 

THOMSaN. 



ON DREAMS. 



O THEN, I see queen Mab hath been with you. 

She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes 

In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 

On the fore-linger of an alderman. 

Drawn with a team of little atomies. 

Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : 

Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs ; 

The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers ; 

The traces of the smallest spider's web ; 

The collar's, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams ; 

Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film ; 

Her waggoner, a small grey- coated gnat. 

Not half so big as a round little worm, 

Prick'd fi'om the lazy finger of a maid : 

Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut. 

Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub. 

Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers, 

And in this state she gallops night by night, 

Tliro' lovers' brains, and then they dream of love ; 

On courtier's knees, that dream on curtseys straight ; 

O'er lawyer's fingers, who straight dream on fees ; 

O'er ladies lips, who straight on kisses dream. 

Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues. 

Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. 

Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose. 

And then dreams he of smelling out a suit : 

And sometimes comes she with a tythe-pig's tail. 

Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep. 

Then dreams he of another benefice ! 

Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck. 

And then he dreams of cutting foreign throats. 

Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades. 

Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon 

Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes ; 

And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two. 

And sleeps again. This is that very Mab 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 308 

That plats the manes of horses in the night ; 
And bakes the elf-locks in foul sluttish hairs. 
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes. 

SHAKESPEARE. 



A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA S DAY. 

FROM harmony, from heavenly harmony 

This universal frame began : 
When Nature underneath a heap 

Of jarring atoms lay. 
And could not heave her head. 
The tuneful voice was heard from high. 

Arise, ye more than dead. 
Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry. 
In order to their stations leap. 

And Music's power obey. 
From harmony, from heavenly harmony, 

This universal frame began : 

From harmony to harmony 
Through all the compass of the notes it ran. 
The diapason closing full in Man. 

What passion cannot Music raise and quell ? 

When Jubal struck the chorded shell, 
His listening bretliren stood around. 

And wond'ring, on their faces fell 
To worship that celestial sound : 
Less than a God they thought there could not dwell 
Within the hollow of that shell. 
That spoke so sweetly and so well. 
What passion cannot Music raise and quell .? 

The trumpet's loud clangour 

Excites us to arms. 
With shrill notes of anger 
And mortal alarms. 
The double, double, double beat 
Of the thundering drum 
Cries, hark ! the foes come ; 
Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat. : 

The soft complaining flute 
In dying notes discovers 
The woes of hopeless lovers, 
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute. 



SO^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POKTRY. 

Sharp violins proclaim 
Their jealous pangs, and desperation, 
Fory, frantic indignation, 
Dep^h of pains, and height of passion. 

For the fair, disdainful dame. 

But oh ! what art can teach. 

What human voice can reach. 
The sacred organ's praise ? 
Notes inspiring holy love. 
Notes that wing their heavenly ways 

To mend the choirs above- 
Orpheus could lead the savage race ; 
And trees uprooted left their place, 

Sequacious of the lyre : 
But bright Cecilia rais'd the wonder higher 
When to her organ vocal breath was giv'n, 
An angel heard, and straight appear'd 

Mistaking earth for heaven. 

GRAND CHORUS. 

As from the power of sacred lays 

The spheres began to move. 
And simg the great Creator's praise 

To all the blest above ; 
So when the last and dreadful hour 
This crumbling pageant shall devour. 
The trumpet shall be heard on high, 
The dead shall live, the living die, 
And Music shall untune the sky. dryden. 



AN ODE FOB ST. CECILIA S CAY. 
I. 

PREPARE the hallow'd strain, my muse. 

Thy softest sounds and sweetest numbers choose ; 

Thy bright Cecilia's praise rehearse. 

In warbling words, and gliding verse. 

That smoothly run into a song. 

And gently die away, and melt upon the tongue. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 305 

II. 

First let the sprightly violin 
The joyful melody begin. 

And none of all her strings be mute ; 
While the sharp sound and shriller lay 
In sweet harmonious notes decay, 
Soften'd and mellow'd by the flute. 
* " The flute that sweetly can complain, 
" Dissolve the frozen nymph's disdain ; 
" Panting sympathy impart, 
" Till she partake her lover's smart." 

CHORUS. 

III. 

Next let the solemn organ join 
Religious airs, and strains divine. 
Such as may lift us to the skies ; 
And set all heaven before our eyes : 

" Such as may lift us to the skies ; 

" So far at least till they 

'^ Descend with kind surprise, 
" And meet our pious harmony half-way.** 

IV. 

Let then the trumpet's piercing sound 
Our ravish'd ears with pleasure wound : 

The soul o'erpowering with delight ; 
As with a quick uncommon ray, 
A streak of lightning clears the day. 

And flashes on the sight. 
Let Echo too perform her part. 
Prolonging every note with art. 

And in a low expiring strain 

Play all the concert o'er again. 

V. 

Such were the tuneful notes that hung 

On bright Cecilia's charming tongue : 

Notes that sacred heats inspir'd. 

And with religious ardour fir'd : 

The love-sick youth, that long suppress'd 

His smother'd passion in his breast. 



* The four last lines of the second and third stauzas were added bv Mi. 
Tate, 



306 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

No sooner heard the warbling dame. 

But by the secret influence tum'd. 
He felt a new diviner flame. 

And with devotion burn'd. 
With ravish'd soul, and looks amaz'd. 
Upon her beauteous face he gaz'd ; 

Nor made his amorous complaint : 
In vain her eyes his heai-t had charm'd. 
Her heavenly voice her eyes disarm'd. 

And chang'd the lover to a saint, 

GRAND CHORUS. 

VI. 

And now the choir complete rejoices. 
With trembling strings, and melting voices. 
The tuneful ferment rises high. 
And works with mingled melody : 
Quick divisions run their rounds, 
A thousand trills, and quivering sounds. 

In airy circles o*er us fly ; 
Till, wafted by a gentle breeze. 
They faint and languish by degrees. 

And at a distance die. addison. 



ODE ON ST. CECILIA S DAY. 

DESCEND, ye Nine ! descend and sing ; 

The breathing instruments inspire. 
Wake into voice each silent string. 
And sweep the sounding lyre I 
In a sadly-pleasing strain 
Let the warbling lute complain : 
Let the loud trumpet sound, 
Till the roofs all around 
The shrill echoes rebound ; 
While in more lengthened notes and slow 
The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow. 
Hark ! the numbers soft and clear 
Gently steal upon the ear ; 
Now louder, and yet louder rise. 
And fill with spreading sounds the skies ; 
Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes. 
In broken air trembling, the wild music floats ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 307 

Till, by degrees, remote and small. 
The strains decay. 
And melt away. 
In a dying, dying fall. 
By Music, minds an equal temper know. 

Nor swell too high, nor sink too low ; 
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise. 
Music her soft, assuasive voice applies : 

Or, when the soul is press'd with cares, ' 
Exalts her in enlivening airs. 
Warriors she fires with animated sounds : 
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds : 
Melancholy lifts her head, 
Morpheus rouses from his bed. 
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes, 
List'ning Envy drops her snakes ; 
Intestine War no more our Passions wage. 
And giddy Factions bear away their rage. 
But when our country's cause provokes to arms, 
How martial music every bosom warms ! 
So when the first bold vessel dar'd the seas. 
High on the stern the Tlu-acian rais'd his strain. 
While Argo saw her kincired trees 
Descend from Pelion to the main ; 
Transported demi-gods stood round. 
And men grew heroes at the sound, 
Enflam'd with glory's charms ; 
Each chief his seven-fold shield display'd. 
And half-unsheath'd the shining blade : 
And seas, and rocks, and skies resound. 

To arms ! to arms ! to arms ! 
But when thro' all th' infernal bounds. 
Which flaming Phlegethon surrounds. 
Love, strong as Death, the Poet led 
To the pale nations of the dead, 
What sounds were heard. 
What scenes appear'd. 
O'er all the dreary coasts ! 
Dreadful gleams. 
Dismal screams, 
Fires that glow. 
Shrieks of woe, 
Sullen moans. 
Hollow groans. 
And cries of tortur d ghosts. 



308 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

But hark ! he strikes the golden lyre ; ^ 

And see ! the tortur'd ghost respire. 
See, shady forms advance I 
Thy stone, O Sisyphus^ stands still, 
Ixion rests upon his wheel. 
And the pale spectres dance ! 
The Furies sink upon their iron beds. 
And snakes uncurl'd, hang listening round their heads. 
By the streams that ever flov/. 
By the fragrant winds that blow 

O'er the Elysian flow'rs ; 
By those happy souls who dwell 
In yellov/ meads of Asphodel, 

Or amaranthine bowers ; 
By the heroes' armed shades. 
Glittering through the gloomy glades ; 
By the youths that dy'd for love, 
Wand'ring in the myrtle grove. 
Restore, restore Eurydice to life : 
Oh take the husband or return the wife ! 
He sung, and hell consented 
To hear the Poet's pray'r : 
Stern Proserpine relented. 
And gave him back the fair. 
Thus song could prevail 
O'er death and o'er hell, 
A conquest how hard, and how glorious ! 
Tho' Fate had fast bound her, 
With Styx nine times round her. 
Yet Music and Love were victorious. 

But soon, too soon, the lover turns his eyes ; 
Again she falls, again she dies, she dies ! 
How wilt thou now the fatal sisters move ? 
No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. 

Now under hanging mountains. 

Besides the fall of fountains. 

Or where Hebrus wanders, 

Rolling in meanders. 
All alone. 

Unheard, unknown. 

He makes his moan ; 

And calls her ghost, 

For ever, ever, ever lost ! 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 309 

Now with Furies surrounded. 
Despairing, confounded. 
He trembles, he glows. 
Amidst Rhodope's snows 
See, wild as the winds, o'er the desert he flies ; 
Hark ! H^mus resounds with the Bacchanals' cries— 

Ah see, he dies ! 
Yet even in death Eurydice he sung, 
Eurydice still trembled on his tongue, 
Eurydice the woods, 
Eurydice the floods, 
Eurydice the rocks and hollow mountains rung. 

Music the fiercest grief can charm. 
And Fate's severest rage disarai ; 
Music can soften pain to ease. 
And make despair and madness please ; 
Our joys below it can improve. 
And antedate the bliss above. 
This the divine Cecilia found. 
And to her Maker's praise confin'd the sound. 
When the full organ joins the tuneful quire. 

The immortal powers incline their ear : 
Borne on the swelling notes our souls aspire. 
While solemn airs improve the sacred fire ; 

And angels lean from heav'n to hear. 
Of Orpheus now no more let Poets tell. 
To bright Cecilia greater power is given ; 
His numbers rais'd a shade from hell, 

Her's lift the soul to heav'n. pope. 



ALEXANDERS FEAST. 

'TWAS at the royal feast, for Persia won. 
By Philip's warlike son : 

Aloft in awful state 

The godlike hero sate 
On his imperial throne : 

His valiant peers were plac'd around ; 
Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound ; 

So should desert in arms be crown'd. 
The lovely Thai's by his side 
Sat, like a blooming Eastern bride. 
In flow'r of youth and beaut/s pride. 



SIO CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Happy, happy, happy pair ; 
None but the brave. 
None but t^e brave. 
None but the brave deserves the fair. 

Timotheus, plac'd on high 

Amid the tuneful quire, 
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre : 
The trembling notes ascend the sky, 
And heav'nly joys inspire. 
The song began from Jove, 
Who left his blissful seats above. 
Such is the pow'r of mighty Love ! 
A dragon's fiery form bely'd the god : 
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode, 

When he to fair Olympia press'd. 
And while he sought her snowy breast. 
Then round her slender waist he curl'd. 
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sov'reign of the world. 
The listening crowd admire the lofty sound ; 
A present deity they shout around, 
A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound : 
With ravish'd ears 
The monarch hears. 
Assumes the god. 
Affects to nod. 
And seems to shake the spheres. 

The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung. 
Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young : 
The jolly god in triumph comes ; 
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums ; 
Flush'd with a purple grace 
He shows his honest face. 
Now give the hautboys breath ; he comes! he comes ! 
Bacchus, ever fair and young, 
Drinking joys did first ordain : 
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure. 
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure : 
Eich the treasure. 
Sweet the pleasure ; 
Sv/eet i$ pleasure after pain. 

Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain : 
Fought all his battles o'er again : [[slain. 

And thrice he rooted all his foes ; and thrice he slew the 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 311 

The master saw the madness rise ; 
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ; 

And, while he heav'n and earth defy'd, 
Chang'd his hand, and checked his pride. 
He chose a mournful muse. 
Soft pity to infuse : 
He sung Darius great and good. 
By too severe a fate, 
Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, 
Fall'n from his high estate. 
And welt'ring in his blood ; 
Deserted at his utmost need 
By those his former bounty fed. 
On the bare earth expos'd he lies. 
With not a friend to close his eyes. 

With downcast look the joyless victor sate. 
Revolving in his alter'd soul 

The various turns of fate below ;^ 
And now and then a aigh he stole. 
And tears began to flow. 

The mighty master smil'd to see 
That love was in the next degree : 
'Twas but a kindred sound to move ; 
For pity melts the mind to love. 
Softly sweet in Lydian measures. 
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. 
War, he sung, is toil and trouble ; 
Honour but an empty bubble ; 

Never ending, still beginning, 
Fighting still, and still destroying ; 

If the world be worth thy winning. 
Think, O think it worth enjoying ! 
Lovely Thais sits beside thee. 

Take the good the gods provide thee. 

The many rend the skies with loud applause ; 
So love was crown'd, but music won the cause. 
The prince, unable to conceal his pain, 
Gaz'd on the fair 
Who caus'd his care. 

And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd, 
Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again. 
At length, with love and wine at once oppressed. 
The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast. 



S12v ,; CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Now Strike the golden lyre again ; 
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. 
Break his bands of sleep asunder. 
And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder. 
Hark, hark ! the horrid sound ; , 

Has rais'd up his head -^T 

As awak'd from the dead, ti 

And amaz'd he stares around. '^ 

Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries, ^ 

See the Furies arise, ™. 

See the snakes that they rear, , 

How they hiss in the air, 'a 

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes ! ' *^" 
Behold a ghastly band. 
Each a torch in his hand ; , 
These are Grecian ghosts, that in l^attle were alain,;;; 
And unbury'd remain 
Inglorious on the plain ; 
Give the vengeance due 
To the valiant crew : 
Behold how they toss their torches on high ! 

How they point to the Persian abodes. 
And glitt'ring temples of their hostile gods !— 
The Princes applaud, with a furious joy ; 
And the King seiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to destroy ; 
Thais led the way. 
To light him to his prey. 
And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. 

Thus long ago, 

Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow 
While organs yet were mute ; 
Timotheus to his breathing flute 
And sounding lyre. 
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. 
At last divine Cecilia came, 
Inventress of the vocal frame ; 
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, 
Enlarg'd the former nan-ow bounds, 
And added length to solemn sounds, ;i 

With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. 
Let old Timotheus yield the prize. 

Or both divide the crown : 
He rais'd a mortal to the skies ; 
She drew an angel down. dryden; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. SIS 

CHARITY. 

OH, Charity ! our helpless nature's pride. 
Thou friend to him who knows no friend beside^ 
Is there in morning's breath, or the sweet gale 
That steals o'er the tir'd pilgrim of the vale. 
Cheering with fragrance fresh his weary frame. 
Aught like the incense of thy holy flame ? 
Is aught in all the beauties that adorn 
The azure heav'n, or purple lights of morn ? 
Is aught so fair in ev'ning's ling'ring gleam. 
As from thine eye the meek and pensive beam 
That falls like saddest moonlight on the hill. 
And distant grove, when the wide world is still? 
Thine are the ample views, that imconfin'd 
Stretch to the utmost walks of human kind ; * 
Thine is the spirit that with widest plan 
Brother to Brother binds, and Man to Man ! 

BOWLESk 



LONDON. 



THOUGH grief and fondness m my breast rebel 
When injured Thales bids the town farewell. 
Yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend, 
I praise the hermit, but regret the friend, 
Resolv'd at length, from vice and London far. 
To breathe in distant fields a purer air ; 
And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore. 
Give to St. David one true Briton more. 

For who would leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land. 
Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand ? 
There none are swept by sudden fate away. 
But all whom hunger spares, with age decay : 
Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire. 
And now a rabble rages, now a fire ; 
Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay. 
And here the fell attorney prowls for prey ; 
Here falling houses thunder on your head. 
And here a female atheist talks you dead. 

While Thales waits the wherry that contains 
Of dissipated wealth the small remains. 
On Thames's banks in silent thought we stood,' 
Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood; 

P 



314) CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Struck with the seat that gave Eliza birth^ 
We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth ; 
In pleasing dreams the blissful age renew. 
And call Britannia's glories back to view ; 
Behold her cross triumphant on the main. 
The guard of commerce, and the dread of Spain, 
Ere masquerades debauch'd, excise oppress'd. 
Or English honour grew a standing jest. 

A transient calm the happy scenes bestow. 
And for a moment lull the sense of woe. 
At length awaking, with contemptuous frown, 
Indignant Thales eyes the neighb'ring town. 

Since worth, he cries, in these degen'rate days 
Wants e'en the cheap reward of empty praise; 
In those curs'd walls, devote to vice and gain. 
Since um'ewarded science toils in vain ; 
Since hope but soothes to dor>ble my distress, 
And ev'ry moment leaves my little less ; 
While yet my steady steps no staff sustains. 
And life still vig'rous revels in my veins ; 
Grant me, kind Heaven, to find some happier place. 
Where honesty and sense are no disgrace ; 
Some pleasing bank where verdant osiers play. 
Some peaceful vale with nature's paintings gay ; 
W^here once the harass'd Briton found repose. 
And safe in poverty defy'd his foes ; 
Some secret cell, ye powers, indulgent give, 

Let live here, for has leam'd to live. 

Here let those reign, whom pensions can incite 
To vote a patriot black, a courtier white : 
Explain their country's dear-bought rights away. 
And plead for pirates in the face of day ; 
With slavish tenets taint our poison'd youth. 
And lend a lie the confidence of truth. 

Let such raise palaces, and manors buy. 
Collect a tax, or farm a lottery ; 
With v/arbling eunuchs fill our silenc'd stage. 
And lull to servitude a thoughtless age. 

Heroes, proceed ! what bounds your pride shall hold ? 
What check restrain your thirst of power and gold } 
Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown. 
Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives, your own. 

To such, the plunder of the land is given. 
When public crimes inflame the wrath of heav'n : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. S15 

But whatj my friend, what hope remains for me^ 

Who start at theft, and blush at perjury ? 

Who scarce forbear, though Britain's court he sing. 

To pluck a titled poet's borrow'd wing ; 

A statesman's logic unconvinc'd can hear, 

And dare to slumber o'er the Gazetteer ; 

Despise a fool in half his pension dress'd. 

And strive in vain to laugh at Clodio's jest. 

Others with softer smiles, and subtler art, 
Can sap the principles, or taint the heart ; 
With more address a lover's note convey. 
Or bribe a virgin's innocence away. 
Well may they rise, while T, whose rustic tongue 
Ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong, 
Spurn'd as a beggar, dreaded as a spy. 
Live unregarded, unlamented die. 

For w^hat but social guilt the friend endears ? 
W^ho shares Orgilio's crimes, his fortune shares. 

But thou, should tempting villany present 
All Marlb'rough hoarded, or all Villiers spent. 
Turn from the glitt'ring bribe thy scornful eye. 
Nor sell for gold what gold could never buy. 
The peaceful slumber, self-approving day. 
Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay. 

The cheated nation's happy fav'rites, see ! 
Mark whom the great caress, who frown on me ! 
London ! the needy villain's gen'ral home. 
The common-sewer of Paris, and of Rome ; 
With eager thirst, by folly or by fate, 
Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state. 
Forgive my transports on a theme like this, 
I cannot bear a French metropolis. 
Illustrious Edward ! from the realms of day, 
The land of heroes and of saints survey ; 
Nor hope the British lineaments to trace. 
The rustic grandeur, or the surly grace. 
But lost in thoughtless ease, and empty show. 
Behold the warrior dwindled to a beau ; 
Sense, freedom, piety, refin'd away. 
Of France the mimic, and of Spain the prey. 

All that at home no more can beg or steal. 
Or Uke a gibbet better than a wheel ; 
Hiss'd from the stage, or hooted from the court. 
Their air, their dress, their pohtics, import ; 

'P2 



SW CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETJfe^. 

Obsequious, artful, voluble, and gay, «»8 luo^ sioIqxS 
On Britain's fond credulity they prey. ^^w pdi doi&f^ 
No gainful trade their industry can 'scape,^v nooa n^HT 
They sing, they dance, clean shoes, or cure a clap :«^-^ 
All sciences a fasting Monsieur knows, ,H^ 

And bid him go to hell — to hell he goes, ^a siinuiD ilA 

Ah ! what avails it, that, from slav'ry faf^t dno tSiiiT 
I drew the breath of life in English air ; 'lo ^^aidX 

Was early taught a Briton's right to prize, cfoa srfT 

And lisp the tale of Henry's victories ; 1 d95j£W 

If the guU'd conqueror receives the chain, -"^^ divff 
And flattery prevails when arms are vain ? nii^ ^^^^ 

Studious to please, and ready to submit, siii lb lO 
The supple Gaul was born a parasite : stnai ^riJ ^'^'^^ 
Still to his interest true where'er he goes, 7f i9V9« si^i 
Wit, brav'ry, worth, his lavish tongue bestows j^w ii&dT 
In ev'ry face a thousand graces shine, *? ^sH 

From ev'ry tongue flows harmony divine. 1 o54 

These arts in vain our rugged natives try, V ^ ^^ ■ - 

Strain out with falt'ring diffidence a lie, > "^ 

And get a kick for awkward flattery. j ^ '^^■ 

Besides, with justice, this discerning age -^^^ ^J^f^ 
Admires their wondrous talents for the stage : 3^ ^'^^- 
Well may they venture on the mimic's art. 
Who play from morn to night a borrow'd part ; 
Practis'd their master's notions to embrace. 
Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face ; 
With ev'ry wild absurdity comply. 
And view its object with another's eye ; 
To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear. 
To pour at will the counterfeited tear ; 
And as their patron hints the cold or heat, ^^ Bmoc-. 
To shake in Dog-days, in December sweat. ^^i<i^ A 

How, when competitors like these contend. 
Can surly Virtue hope to fix a friend } 
Slaves that with serious impudence beguile, ^ ^iS9i IsnA 
And lie without a blush, without a smile; -^^ lisifi 
Exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore, mdw id^ 

Your taste in snuff, your judgment in a whore ^ ^^f ^^ 
Can Balboa's eloquence applaud, and swear !:^.^^'^ 
He gropes bis breeches with a monarch's air. '^ hlmd^^ 

For arts like these preferr'd, admir'd, caress'd, p^-^ 
They first inyade your t^le,.tiien your breast |— J^-' 



CliASSlCAL ENGLISH POETRY. S17 

Explore your secrets with insidious art, t - ^ 

Watch the weak hour, and ransack all the heart ;iS nO 
Then soon your ill-plac'd confidence repay, kg o^^ 
Commence your lords, and govern or betray. s vsriT 

By numbers here from shame or censure free, ■ ' 
All crimes are safe but hated poverty. 
This, only this, the rigid law pursues. 
This, only this, provokes the snarling muse. 
The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak. 
Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke ; 
With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze. 
And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. 
Of all the griefs that harass the distress'd ; 
Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest ; 
Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart/; 
Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart. «i ^^ 

Has Heaven reserv'd, in pity to the poor, . " ^i'^3 ul 
No pathless wa§te> or undiscover'd shore? ^t^» mo 2^. 
No secret island in the boundless main ? -^ 

No peaiceful desert yet unclaimed by Spain? 
Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore. 
And bear Oppression's insolence no more. 
This mournful truth is ev'ry where confess'd, 
Slow rises worth, by poverty depressed : 
But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold. 
Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold ; 
Where won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd. 
The groom retails the favours of his lord. 

But hark ! th' affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries 
Roll through the streets, and, thunder to the skies : ■ 
Rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and pow'r. 
Some pompous palace, or some blissful bow'r. 
Aghast you start, and scarce with aching sight. 
Sustain th* approaching fire's tremendous light ; 
Swift from pursuing horrors take your way, j 

And leave your little all to flames a prey ; -? 

Then through the world a wretched vagrant roam, A 
For where can starving merit find a home ? ^5^ 

In vain your mournful narrative disclose, n-'m^i 

While all neglect, and most insult your woes. ^S n&3 
Should Heaven's just bolts Orgilio's wealth confound, ?>' 
And spread his flaming palace on the ground. 
Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies, *u imxi v^^ I 
And pubhc mournings pacify the skies : 

P 3 



318 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The laureate tribe in venal verse relate. 
How virtue wars v/ith persecuting fate ; 
With weil-feign'd gratitude the pension'd band 
Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land. 
See ! while he builds, the gaudy vassals come, 
And crowd with sudden wealth the rising dome ; 
The price of boroughs and of souls restore ; 
And raise his treasures higher than before. 
Now bless'd with all the baubles of the great, 
The pohsh'd marble and the shining plate, 
Orgilio sees the golden pile aspire. 
And hopes from angry Heav'n another fire. 

Could'st thou resign the park and play content. 
For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent ; 
There might'st thou find some elegant retreat, 
Some hireling senator's deserted seat ; 
And stretch thy prospects o'er the smiling land. 
For less than rent the dungeons of the Strand ; 
There prune thy walks, support thy drooping flow'rs. 
Direct thy rivulets, and twine thy bow'rs; 
And, while thy grounds a cheap repast afford. 
Despise the dainties of a venal lord : 
There every bush with Nature's music rings. 
There ev'ry breeze bears health upon its wings ; 
On all thy hours security shall smile. 
And bless thine evening walk, and morning toil. 

Prepare for death, if here at night you roam. 
And sign your will before you sup from home. 
Some fiery fop, with new commission vain. 
Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man ; 
Some frolic drunkard, reeling from a feast. 
Provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest. 
Yet ev'n these heroes, mischievously gay. 
Lords of the street, and terrors of the way ; 
Flush'd as they are with folly, youth, and wine, 
Tiieir prudent insults to the poor confine ; 
Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach. 
And shim the shining train, and golden coach. 

In vain these dangers past, your doors you close. 
And hope the balmy blessings of repose : 
Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair. 
The midnight murd'rer bursts the faithless bar ; 
Invades the sacred hour of silent rest. 
And leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 319 

Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die, 
With hemp the gallows, and the fleet supply. 
Propose your schemes, ye senatorial! band. 
Whose ways and means support the sinking land ; 
Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring. 
To rig another convoy for the king. 
A single gaol, in Alfred's golden reign. 
Could half the nation's criminals contain ; 
Fair justice then, without constraint ador'd. 
Held high the steady scale, but sheath'd the sword ; 
No spies were paid, no special juries known, 
Blest age ! but ah ! how difPrent from our own ! 

Much could I add — but see the boat at hand. 
The tide, retiring, calls me from the land : 
Farewell ! — When youth, and health, and fortune spent. 
Thou fly'st for refuge to the wilds of Kent ; 
And tir'd, like me, with follies and with crimes, 
In angry numbers warn'st succeeding times. 
Then shall thy friend, nor thou refuse his aid. 
Still foe to vice, forsake his Cambrian shade ; 
In Virtue's cause once more exert his rage. 
Thy satire point, and animate thy page. johnson. 



LIFE. 

LIFE — the dear precarious boon ! 
Soon we lose — alas — how soon ! 
Fleeting vision — ^falsely gay, 
Grasp'd in vain, it fades away. 
Mixing with surrounding shades 
Lovely vision ! how it fades ! 

Let the Muse in Fancy's glass 
Catch the phantoms as they pass ; 
See they rise ! a nymph behold. 
Careless wanton, young, and bold, 
Mark her devious hasty pace. 
Antic dress and thoughtless face, 
Smihng cheeks and roving eyes. 
Causeless mirth and vain surprise. 
Tripping at her side, a boy. 
Shares her wonder and her joy. 
This is Folly, Childhood's guide. 
This is Childhood at her side J 

P4 



320 CLASSICAL ENGLISH PO^^Y. 

What is he succeeding now, ^grf^ ^wB 

Myrtles blooming on his brow, ixigiH. 

Bright and blushing as the mpni> tgrfW 

Not on earth a mortal born ? ._ fonBl 

Shafts ta pierce the strong I view, nsiiW 

Wings, the flying to pursue, ' " 

Victim of his power, behind 

Stalks a slave of human kind, x^q i^iwi - 

Whose disdain of all the free. 

Speaks his mind's captivity ; 

Love the tyrant — Youth the slave. 

Youth in vain is wise or brave. 

Love with conscious pride defies 3 JSW^^C 

All the brave and all the wise^ ^^sibs ^ 

'id s .dsf 
Who art /^ow with anxious mien, "^it 

Stealing o'er the shifting scene? . -^ r ^.-| 

Eyes with tedious vigils red, ,^rp' 

Sighs by doubts and wishes bred, s^. ^^ 

Cautious step and glancing tear. 
Speak thy woes and speak thy leer ; 
Arm in arm, what wretch is he v a-3oi> ^^aB 
Like thyself who walks with thee?- "il^^*^ 
Like thy own, his fears and woes, T 

All thy pangs his bosom knows. 
Well, too well ! my boding breast, 
Rnows the names your looks suggest; 
Anxious, busy, restless pair ! 
Manhood link'd by Fate to Care, ^ 

Wretched state ! and yet 'tis dear ^^^^ ^ 
Fancy close the prospect here ! „,, 4,^^ ^T 

Close it, or recall the past. 
Spare my eyes — my heart the last ! 

Vain the wish ! the /b^r appears, ' 
While I gaze it swims in tears. 
Age — my future self — I trace. 
Moving slow, with feeble pace. 
Bending with disease and cares. 
All the load of life he bears. 
White his locks — ^his visage wan. 
Strength, and Ease, and Hope are gone- 
Death— the shadowy form I know. 
Death o'ertakes him — ^dreadi\il foe ! 



<;i7ASSi<JA L EKGLi S H POETRY . 1^ 

Swift they vanish— mournful sight, ^ ^ 
Night succeeds — impervious night, '^^^f 
What these dreadful glooms conceal, - 
Fancy's glass can ne*er reveal ! 
When shall Time the veil remove ? 
When shall Light the scene improve ? 
When shall Truth my doubts dispel? 
Awful period! who can tell? hawksv/orth. 



THE PRISON. 



O, WELCOME, Debtor ! in these walls 
Thy cares, and joys, and loves, forego; 

Approach, a brother debtor calls. 
And join the family of Woe ! 

Did Fortune with her frowning brow 

Thy late and early toils withstand ? 
Or Slander strike the fatal blow. 

Or griping Us'ry's iron hand? 

Say, does a wife, to want consigned. 
While weeping babes surround her bed, 

Peep thro' and see the fetters bind 

Those hands that earn'd their daily bread ? 

Does she in vain, on knees that bend. 

The marble heart of wealth implore ? 
Breathless pursue some flying friend. 

Or beat in vain the closing door ? 

Look up, and share our scanty meal ; 

For us some brighter hours may flow ; 
Some angel break these bolts of steel. 

For Howard marks and feels our woe. darwin. 



HYMN TO SCIENCE. 

SCIENCE ! thou fair effusive ray 
From the great Source of mental day. 

Free, gea'rous, and refin'd ; 
Descend with all thy treasures fraught, 
Illumine each bewilder'd thought. 

And bless my lab'ring mind. 

P5 



S22 ^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

But first with thy resistless h'ght, 
, Disperse those phantoms from my sight. 

Those mimic shades of thee, 
The Scholiast's learning. Sophist's cant. 
The visionary Bigot's rant. 

The Monk's philosophy. 

Oh ! let thy powerful charms impart 
The patient head, the candid heait, 

Devoted to thy sway ; 
Which no weak passions e'er mislead. 
Which still with dauntless steps proceed 

Where Reason points the way. 

Give me to learn each secret cause ; 
Let numbers, figures. Nature's laws, 

Reveal'd before me stand : 
These to great Nature's scenes apply. 
And round the globe, and thro' the sky. 

Disclose her working hand. 

Next to thy nobler search resign'd. 
The busy, restless, human mind 

Thro' ev'ry maze pursue ; 
Detect perception where it lies. 
Catch the ideas as they rise. 

And all their changes view. 

Her secret stores let Mem'ry tell. 
Bid Fancy quit her fairy cell 

In all Iier colours drest. 
While prompt her sallies to control ; 
Reason, the judge, recalls the soul 

To Truth's severest test. 

Say from what simple springs began 
The vast ambitious thoughts of man. 

That rage beyond control ; 
Which seek eternity to trace. 
Dive thro' th' infinity of space. 

And strain to grasp the whole ? 

Then range thro' Being's wide extent. 
Let the fair scale, with just ascent. 

And equal steps be trod ; 
Till, from the dead corporeal mass. 
Thro' each progressive rank you pass. 

To instinct. Reason, God 1 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 323 

There, Science, veil thy daring eye. 
Nor dive too deep, nor soar too high. 

In that divine abyss ; 
To Faith content thy beams to lend, 
Her hopes assure, her steps befriend. 

And light her way to biiss. 

Then downwards take thy flight again. 
Mix with the policies of men. 

And social Nature's ties : 
The plan, the genius of each state. 
Its interests, and its powers relate. 

Its fortunes, and its rise. 

Thro' private life pursue thy course. 
Trace ev'ry action to its source. 

And means and motives weigh ; 
Put tempers, passions, in the scale ; 
Mark what degrees in each prevail. 

And fix the doubtful sway. 

The last, best effort of thy skill. 
To form the life, and rule the wiU, 

Propitious Pow'r, impart; 
Teach me to cool my passions' fires. 
Make me the judge of my desires. 

The master of my heart. 

Kaise me above the vulgar breath. 
Pursuit of Fortune, dread of Death, 

And all in life that's mean : 
Still true to reason be my plan. 
Still let my actions speak the man. 

Thro* ev'ry varying scene. 

Hail, Queen of manners ! test of truth I 
Hail, charm of age 1 and light of youth I 

Sweet refuge of distress I 
Ev'n business you can make pohte. 
Can give Retirement its delight. 

Prosperity its grace. 

Of pow'r, wealth, freedom, thou the cause^ n 
Foundress of order, cities, laws. 

Of arts, inventress thou I 
Without thee, what were human kind ? 
How vast their wants, their thoughts bow blind I 

Their joys how mean, how few ! 
P6 



^4 ^^A^eA^. ENGLISH; PCmBY* 

Sun of the soul ! thy beams unveil l_ ^^w%o' 
Let others spread the daring sail > ,i^«o|f^ 

On Tortune's faithless seaC^T^ 
While undeluded, happier I, ' ? ^^nhrlx} 

From the vain tumult timely fly, , ^T^^i^'T 
And sit in peace wjith tl^e,„^;|^ ^ A^^^ 

THE BUTTERFLY. 

CHILD of the sun ! pursue thy rapturous flight, 

Mingling with her thou lov'st in fields of Hght ; 

^nd, where the flowers of paradise unfold. 

Quaff fragra;nt nectar from their cups of gold. ' 

There shall thy wings, rich as an evening sky/ 

Expand and shut with silent ecstacy ! 

-•-Yet wert thou once a worm, a thing that crept 

On the bare earth, then wrought a tomb and slept ! 

And such is man ; soon from his cell of clay 

To burst a seraph in the blaze of day ! Rogers 



THE FIRE-SIDE. ./.a 

DEAR Chloe, while the busy crowd. 

The vain, the wealthy, and the proudjod oM 

In Folly's 'maze advance ; 
Tho* shigularity and pride 
Be call'd our choice, we'll step a side, i 

Nor join the giddy dance. // 

From the gay world, we'll oft retire 
To our own family and fire. 

Where love our hours employs ; 
No busy neighbour enters here. 
No intermeddling stranger near, ^ 

To spoil our heart- felt joys. 
4s.m ijfLfi 
If solid happiness we prize. 
Within our breast this jewel lies ; 

And they are fools who roam : 
The world has nothing to bestow; 
From our ownselves our joys must flow, 

And that dear hut, our home. 



Of rest was Noah's dove bereft, ^ 5^ ^-^'^ 

When v/ith impatient wing she left '■'**^^®^ 

That safe retreat, til e ark ; _ 

Giving her vain excursion o'er, mmW 

The disappointed bird once more f^oif 
mmnm: Explor'd the sacred bark. 

The' fools spurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs. 
We, who improve his golden hours. 

By sweet experience know. 
That marriage, rightly understood, 
Gives to the tender and the good, CIJIH3 

A paradise below. .- .^ , 

Our babes shall richest comforts bring ; 
If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring 

Whence pleasures ever rise: 
We'll form their minds with studious care, 
To all that's manlj'-, good, and fair. 

And train them for the skies. 

While they our wisest hours engage, 
They'll joy our youth, support our age. 

And crown our hoary hairs : 
They'll grow in virtue every day. 
And thus our fondest hours repay. 

And recompense our cares. 

No borrowed joys ! they're all our owig^/ q^T 
While to the world we live unknown, 

Or by the world forgot : " 

Monarchs ! we envy not your state ; 
We look with pity on the great. 

And bless our humble lot. 

. '^3 ■ 

Our portion is not large indeed ; Wi 

But then how little do we need ! 

For Nature's calls are few : 
In this the heart of living lies, I 

To want no more than may suffice. 

And make that little do. 

We'll therefore relish, with conteti! S2|! 
Whate'er kind Providence has sent, =^"*'^*^ 

Nor aim beyond our pow'r ; ^^ ,^ 
For, if our stock be very small, ^^ ^^ 

'Tis prudence to enjoy it aU, ^ ^'^^®^* 

Nor lose the present hour. ^ 



3^6 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY^ 

To be resign'd, when ills betide, 
Patient, when favours are deny'd. 

And pleas'd with favours giv'n : 
Dear Chioe, this is Wisdom's part ; 
This is that incense of the heart, 

Whose fragrance smells to Heav'n. 

We'll ask no long-protracted treat, 
Since Avinter-life is seldom sweet ; 

But, when our feast is o'er. 
Grateful from table we'll arise. 
Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes. 

The relics of our store. 

Thus hand in hand thro' life we'll go ; 
Its chequer'd paths of joy and woe. 

With cautious steps we'll tread ; 
Quit its vain scenes without a teai'. 
Without a trouble or a fear. 

And mingle with the dead. 

While Conscience, like a faithful friend. 
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend. 

And cheer our dying breath ; 
Shall, when all other comforts cease. 
Like a kind angel, whisper peace. 

And smooth the bed of Death. cotton. 



THE HAPPY VILLAGER. 

VIRTUE dwells in Arden's vale; 
There her hallow'd temples rise : 
There her incense greets the skies, 

Grateful as the morning gale ; 
There, with humble Peace, and her, 
lives the happy Villager ! 

There, the golden smiles of mom 
Brighter every field adorn ; 
There the sun's declining ray 
Fairer paints the parting day : 
There the woodlark louder sings. 
Zephyr moves on softer wings. 
Groves in greener honours rise. 
Purer azure spreads the skies ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 327 

There the fountains clearer flow. 
Flowers in brighter beauty blow ; 
For, with Peace and Virtue, there 
Lives the happy Villager ! 

Distant still from Arden's vale 
Are the woes the bad bewail ! 
Distant fell Remorse, and Pain, 
And Frenzy smiling o'er her chain ! 
Grief's quick pang. Despair's dead groan. 
Are in Arden's vale unknown : 
For with Peace and Virtue, there 
Lives the happy Villager. 

In his hospitable cell. 
Love, and Truth, and Freedom dweU ; 
And, with aspect mild and free. 
The graceful nymph. Simplicity. 
Hail, ye liberal graces, hail ! 
Natives all of Arden's vale : 
For, with Peace and Virtue, there 
Lives the happy Villager ! langhorne. 



TO MY SOUL. 

From Chaucer. 

FAR from mankind, my weary soul, retire, 
Still follow truth, contentment still desire. 
Who climbs on high,, at best his weakness shows. 
Who rolls in riches, all to Fortune owes. 
Read well thyself, and mark thy early ways. 
Vain is the Muse, and Envy waits on praise. 

Wav'ring as winds the breath of Fortune blows. 
No pow'r can turn it, and no pray'rs compos^. 
Deep in some hermit's solitary cell 
Repose, and Ease, and Contemplation, dwell. 
Let Conscience guide thee in the days of need ; 
Judge well thy own, and then thy neighbour's deed. 

What Heav'n bestows with thankful eyes receive ; 
First ask thy heart, and then through faith believe. 
Slowly we wander o'er a toilsome v/ay. 
Shadows of life, and pilgrims of a day. 

'' Who restless in this world, receives a fall; 

" Look up on high, and thank thy God for all !" 

HARTE. 



3^1^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



■t-i J. 



LET observation, with extensive view, 9 jilje J^Y 
Survey mankind, from China to Peru ; K^ ^|^- ^^^ 
Remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, -^ -* oiii w&'i 
And watch the busy scenes of crowded life f IgKi *iiT 
Then say how hope and fear, desire and hate, -^3-0 
O'erspread with snares the clouded maze of fate, " ,1^^ 
Where wav'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride, ^gg 
To tread the dreary paths without a guide ; -^^ btiA 

As treach'raus phantoms in the mist delude, ' :^ iiodT 
Shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good. .^^^ i^^^jv 

How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, ^,.9.-";^ 
Rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voiced I, ^^^ 
How nations sink, by darling schemes oppress'd, 7^^ 
When vengeance listens to the fool's request. iss? lO 
Fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, ,^ ^tsdW 
Each gift of nature, and each grace of art, ,.^ f^^j^ 

With fatal heat impetuous courage glows, "^,, -^^|.^ 

With fatal sweetness elocution flows. 
Impeachment stops the speaker's powerful breath, -^ 
And restless fire precipitates on death. ,^ 

But scarce observ'd, the knowing and the bold, 'r 
Fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold; ^^ 

Wide- wasting pest! that rages unconfin'd, ^^ 

And crowds with crimes the records of mankind ; {?,/ 
For gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws. 
For gold the hireling judge distorts the laws ; g 

Wealth heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety buys, ^ 
The dangers gather as the treasures rise, > 

Let hist'ry tell where rival kings command. 
And dubious title shakes the madden'd land, 
When statutes glean the refuse of the sword, .{^; 

How much more safe the vassal than the lord ; ,; r 

Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of pow'r, -.^■ 

And leaves the wealthy traitor in the Tow'r, ■ 

Untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, ., , ,^>^ 
Though confiscation's vultures hover round. ^^ giiio^ 

The needy traveller, serene and gay, --l 

Walks the wild heath, and sings his toil away. ; r 

Does envy seize thee ? crush th' upbraiding joy, : ^ 

Increase his riches and his peace destroy ; i 

Now fears, in dire vicissitude, invade, , ,^ ^ .^^ 

The rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring shade, |jg^ nj 



CL%l?^A\^mi¥HWE%V.^ sir 

Nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief^- 

One shows the plunder, and one hides the thief. s--^ * 

Yet still one general cry the skies assails, ^*^ ^ '^ 

And gain and grandeur load the tainted gales; ^JC^^wS 
Few know the toiling statesman's fear or care, ' ^"^^^^ 
Th' insidious rival, and the gaping heir. \' >^sw biiK 

Once more, Democritus, arise on earth, ^*'t ^'^^ ^^^-^ 
With cheerfiil wisdom, and instructive mirth ; '^'ifisia O 
See motley life in modern trappings dress'd, '^ ®'^^" \f 
And feed with varied fool's th' eternal jest : ^^ 

Thou who could'st laugh where want enchain'd capric^ 
Toil crushed conceit, and man was of a piece ; ^ 'niis^ 
Where wealth unlov'd without a mourner dy'd ; ^"^ ^ori 
And scarce a sycophant was fed by pride ; ^^^i 

Where ne'er was known the form of mock debate, :^;;| 
Or seen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state ; ' tt 

Where change of fav'rites made no change of laws, ~^ 
And senates heard before they judg'd a cause; '^^ 

How would'st thou shake at Britain's modish tribe, jjjf 
Dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe ! -^ '*^ 
Attentive truth and nature to descry, :l^ 

And pierce each scene with philosophic eye. J^"^ 

To thee were solemn toys or empty show, /\^ 

The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe : ! J^ 

All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain, ^ "'^ 

Whose joys are causeless, or whose griefs are vain. '-^-^ 

Such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's mind, ^^'^ 
Renew'd at every glance on human kind; p^ 

How just that scorn ere yet thy voice declare, -■'^'^ 

Search every state, and canvass ev'ry prayer. 'f^ ^^-^ 

Unnumber'd suppliants crowd preferment's ga^^p 
Athirst for wealth, and burning to be great ; ^^*^ ^^^ 
Delusive fortune hears th' incessant call, '^ asriW 

They mount, they shme, evaporate and fall. ^ woH 

On ev'ry stage, the foes of peace attend, rhw-Q-J. 

Hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their en^^' ^^^ 
Love ends with hope, the sinking statesman's dodiH ^'^^jJ 
Pours in the morning worshipper no more ; \^^ 

For growing names the weekly scribbler lies, - ^ ^ , 
To growing wealth the dedicator flies ; "^ '^^ 6AI&W 
From ev'ry room descends the painted face, T-*^"-* a^ou 
That hung the bright palladium of the place, a^^^s^rf 
And smok'd in kitchens, or in auctions soldi ^-^ "^^^S 
To better features yields the frame of gold ;S^^^2sn 9riT 



330 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

For now no more we trace in ev'ry line 
Heroic woith, benevolence divine : 
The form distorted justifies the fall. 
And detestation rids th' indignant wall. 

But will not Britain hear the last appeal. 
Sign her foes' doom, or guard her fav'rites' zeal ? 
Through freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings. 
Degrading nobles and controlling kings ; 
Our supple tribes repress their patriot throats, 
And ask no questions but the price of votes ; 
With weekly libels and septennial ale. 
Their wish is full to riot and to rail. 

In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand. 
Law in his voice, and fortune in his hand ; 
To him the church, the realm, their powers consign, 
Through him the rays of regal bounty shine ; 
Turn'd by his nod the stream of honor flows. 
His smile alone security bestows : 
Still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r ; 
Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r ; 
Till conquest unresisted ceas'd to please, 
And rights submitted, left him none to seize. 
At length his sov'reign frowns — the train of state 
Mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate : 
Where'er he turns he meets a stranger's eye. 
His suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly ; 
Now drops at once the pride of awful state. 
The golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate. 
The regal palace, the luxurious board. 
The liv'ried army, and the menial lord. 
With age, with cares, with maladies oppress'd. 
He seeks the refuge of monastic rest. 
Grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings. 
And his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. 

Speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine. 
Shall Wolsey 's wealth, with Wolsey 's end be thine ? 
Or hv'st thou now, with safer pride content. 
The wisest Justice on the banks of Trent ? 
For why did Wolsey near the steeps of fate. 
On weak foundations raise th' enormous weight ? 
W^hy, but to sink beneath misfortime's blow. 
With louder ruin to the gulfs below. 

What gave great Villiers to th' assassin's knife. 
And fix'd disease on Harley's closing life } 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 331 

What murder'd Wentworth, and what exil'd Hyde, 
By kings protected, and to kings aliy'd ? 
What, but their wish indulged in courts to shine. 
And pow'r too great to keep, or to resign ! 

When first the college rolls receive his name. 
The young enthusiast quits his ease for fame ; 
Resistless burns the fever of renown. 
Caught from the strong contagion of the gown : 
O'er Boadley's dome his future labours spread. 
And Bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head. 
Are these thy views ? proceed, illustrious youth. 
And virtue guard thee to the throne of truth ! 
Yet should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat. 
Till captive science yields her last retreat ; 
Should reason guide thee with her brightest ray. 
And pour on misty doubt resistless day ; 
Should no false kindness lure to loose delight. 
Nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright ; 
Should tempting novelty thy cell refrain. 
And sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain ; 
Should beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart. 
Nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart ; 
Should no disease thy torpid veins invade. 
Nor melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade ; 
Yet hope not life from grief or danger free. 
Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee ; 
Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, 
And pause awhile from learning, to be wise ; 
There mark what ills the scholar's life assail. 
Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. 
See nations slowly wise, and meanly just. 
To buried merit raise the tardy bust. 
If dreams yet flatter, once again attend. 
Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end. 

Nor deem, when learning her last prize bestows. 
The glitt'ring eminence exempt from foes ; 
See, when the vulgar 'scapes, despis'd or aw'd. 
Rebellion's vengeful talons seize on Laud. 
From meaner minds, though smaller fines content. 
The plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent ; 
Mark'd out by dang'rous parts he meets the shock. 
And fatal learning leads him to the block : 
Around his tomb let art and genius weep. 
But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep. 



BB^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

The festal blazes^ the triumphal show, 

The ravish'd standard, and the captive foe, P^'^'^ ^ 

The senate's thanks, the gazette's pompous tale^J^^^'* '^^i 

With force resistless o'er the brave prevail. 

Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd. 

For such the steady Romans shook the world; i ii^'^^'i 

For such in distant lands the Britons shine, ^y r -"i 

And stain with blood the Danube or the Rhine ; 

This pow'r has praise, that virtue scarce tan warm, ^ 

Till fame supplies the universal charm. ^' 

Yet reason frowns on war's unequal game, {A 

Where wasted nations raise a single name, 0*^ HIT 

And mortgag'd states their grandsires wreaths v^gHtf'^ 

From age to age in everlasting debt ; 

Wreath$ which at last the dear-bought right convey ' 

To rust on medals, or on stones decay. 

On what foundation stands the warrior's pride, 
How just his hopes, let Swedish Charles decide; 
A frame of adamant, a soul of fire. 
No dangers fright him, and no labours tire ; 
O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, 
Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain: 
No joys to him pacific sceptres yield, ' ' ^ 

War sounds the txump, he rushes to the field ; '^ ^^^';^ 
Behold surrounding kings tlieir pow'r combine, '" rfJf^ 
And one capitulate, and one resign ; "^>^ ^ ^^ 

Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain ; 
*' Think nothing gain'd," he cries, '^ till nought remain^ 
" On Moscow's walls till Gothic standards fly, 
" And all be mine beneath the polar sky." 
The march begins in military state. 
And nations on his eye suspended wait ; '*^' 

Stern famine guards the solitary coast, 
And winter barricades the realms of frost ; 
He comes, nor want, nor cold, his course delay ; '"^ 
Hide, blushing glory, hide Pultowa's day : ^^f ^^^ 

The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands 
And shows his miseries in distant lands ; 
Condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait, ' rr^; r:^ '&^!r.H 
While Ladies interpose, and slaves debate. ^^"^Q sTd f^dT 
But did not chance at length her error mend? ^^ s^miT 
Did not subverted empire mark his end ? ^3 bnA 

Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound ? ■-^'^^^ nm^r rl 
Or hostile millions press liim to the grouiwllffi ?i^nl ^^U 



CLASSICAL JENGLISH P6EtR«a > ^$ 

His fall was destin'd to a barren strand/ uf f*J?e^ sdT 
A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; '"-^ ^^'^ 

He left the name, at which the world grew pale,'!^ sdT 
To point a moral, or adorn a tale. ^ 

All times their scenes of pompous woes afford,. '^^ 
From Persia's tyrant, to Bavaria's lord. yss *^o'^ 

In gay hostility and barb'rous pride, 2 lo'i 

With half mankind embattled at his side, ^^- 

Great Xerxes came to seize the certain prey, -■■■ * 

And starves exhausted regions in his way ; '1' 

Attendant flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er, ^ 

Till counted myriads soothe his pride no more ; '* 

Fresh praise is try'd till madness fires the mind, , —A 
The waves he lashes, and enchains the wind ; motl 
New pow'rs ai-e claim'd, new pow'rs are still hesti^^j^ 
Till inide resistance lops the spreading god ; ^sji oT 
The daring Greeks deride the martial show, * - * 
And heap their valleys with the gaudy foe ; H 

Th' insulted sea with humbler thoughts he gains, A 
A single skiff to speed his flight remains ; ^- 

Th' encumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast -i^'^ 
Through purple billows and a floating host. MtmnJ 

The bold Bavarian, in a luckless hour. /o|^ oT-f 

Tries the dread summits of Ceesai'ean pow'r. /os is/^ 
With unexpected legions bursts away, ■ ?<< bloddE 

And sees defenceless realms receive his swapp ano bsA 
Short sway ! fair Austria spreads her mournful chaTiflsy^ 
The queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms; 
From hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze 
Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise ; » 2! 
The fierce Croatian, and the wild Hussar, J^ 

With all the sons of ravage crowd the war ; A 

The baflBed prince in honour's flatt'ring bloom 1 rneJ^^ 
Of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom, ^w hnA 

His foes derision, and his subjects blame, ruoo sH 

And steals to death from anguish and from shame* sbiH 

Enlarge my life with multitude of days, i'>T SfiT 

In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays ^^?^ bnA 
Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know, oD 
That life protracted, is protracted woe. W 

Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, -S 

And shuts up all the passages of joy : ^Cl 

In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour, iQf 

Tlie fniit autumnal, and the vernal flour ; iO 



334; CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

With listless eyes the dotard views the store, 
He views and wonders that they please no more ; 
Now pall the tasteless meats, and joyless wines. 
And luxury with sighs her slave resigns. 
Approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain. 
Diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain : 
No sounds, alas ! would touch th' impervious ear. 
Though dancing mountains witness'd Orpheus near ; 
Nor lute nor lyre his feeble powers attend. 
Nor sweeter music of a virtuous friend. 
But everlasting dictates crowd his tongue. 
Perversely grave, or positively wrong. 
The still returning tale, and lingering jest. 
Perplex the fawning niece, and pamper'd guest. 
While growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer. 
And scarce a legacy can bribe to hear ; 
The watchful guests still hint the last offence. 
The daughter's petulance, the son's expense. 
Improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill. 
And mould his passions till they make his will. 

Unnumber'd maladies his joints invade. 
Lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade ; 
But unextinguisb'd av'rice still remains. 
And dreaded losses aggravate his pains ; 
He turns, with anxious heait and crippled hands, 
His bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands ; 
Or views his coffers, with suspicious eyes. 
Unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. 

But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime 
Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime ; 

An age that melts with unpercelv'd decay. 
And glides in modest innocence away ; 
Whose peaceful day benevolence endears. 

Whose night congratulating conscience cheers ; 

The gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend ; 

Such age there is, and who shall wish its end ? 
Yet ev'n on this her load misfortune flings. 

To press the weary minutes' flagging wings ; 

New sorrow rises as the day returns, 

A sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. 

Now kindred merit fills the sable bier. 

Now lacerated friendship claims a tear. 

Year chases year, decay pursues decay. 

Still drops some joy from with'ring life away ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 3S5 

New forms arise, and difF'rent views engage. 
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage. 
Till pitying nature signs the last release. 
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace- 

But few there are whom hours like these await. 
Who set unclouded in the gulfs of fate. 
From Lydia's monarch should the search descend. 
By Solon caution'd to regard his end. 
In life's last scene what prodigies surprise. 
Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise ? 
From Marlb'rough' eyes the streams of dotage flow. 
And Swift expires a drivller and a show. 

The teeming mother, anxious for her race, * 
Begs for each birth the fortune of a face : 
Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring ; 
And Sedley cursed the form that pleas'd a king. 
Ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes. 
Whom pleasure keeps too busy to be wise, 
Whom joys with soft varieties invite. 
By day the frolic, and the dance by night ; 
Who frown with vanity, who smile with art. 
And ask the latest fashion of the heart, 
What care, what rules, your heedless charms shall save. 
Each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave } 
Against your fame with fondness hate combines. 
The rival batters, and the lover mines. 
With distant voice neglected virtue calls, 
Less heard, and less the faint remonstrance falls ; 
Tir'd with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry reign, 
And pride and prudence take her seat in vain. 
In crowd at once, where none the pass defend. 
The harmless freedom, and the private friend. 
The guardians yield, by force superior ply'd ; 
To interest, prudence ; and to flatt'ry, pride. 
Here beauty falls betray'd, despis'd, distress'd, 
And hissing infamy proclaims the rest. 

Where then shall hope and fear their objects find? 
Must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mirid } 
Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate. 
Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate } 
Must no dislike alarm,. no wishes rise. 
No cries invoke the mercies of the skies ? 
Inquirer, cease ; petitions yet remain. 
Which Heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vain. 



336 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. _ t 

Still raise for good the supplicating voice, ■ ^H 

But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choicftrA 

Safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar ij :ddT 

The secret ambush of a specious pray'r, r. * 

Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, l^ \ * 

Secure whate'er he gives, he gives the best^P , *. ^ 

Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires. 

And strong devotion to the skies aspires. 

Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, 

Obedient passions, and a will resign'd; 

For love, which scarce collective man can fill ; 

For patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill ; 

For faith, that panting for a happier seat. 

Counts death kind nature's signal of retreat : 

These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain. 

These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain ; 

With these celestial wisdom calms the mind. 

And makes the happiness she does not find, johnson. 



THE LAST MINSTKEL. 

THE way was long, the wind was cold. 

The Minstrel was infirm and old. 

His wither'd cheek and tresses gay, 

Seem'd to have known a better day ; 

The Harp, his sole remaining joy. 

Was carried by an orphan boy. 

The last of all the bards was he. 

Who sung of border chivalry. 

For well-a-day ! their date was fled. 

His tuneful brethren all were dead. 

And he, neglected and oppress'd, 

Wish'd to be with them, and at rest. 

No more on prancing palfrey borne. 

He caroird light as lark at morn : 

No longer courted and cai-ess'd. 

High plac'd in hall, a welcome guest. 

He pour'd to lord and lady gay. 

The unpremeditated lay ; 

Old times were chang'd, old manners gone, 

A stranger fiU'd the Stuart's throne. 

The bigots of the iron time. 

Had caird his harmless art a crime. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POLTRY. iJJ 

A wandering Harper scom'cl and poor,^ ^ .^ ,..^-. 

He begg'd his bread from door to door/" ' "'^ 

Andtun'd to p'ease a peasant's ear p 

The Harp a king had iov'd to hear ! ''■^ 

Amidst the strings his fingers stray 'd 1 ::i 



} 



And an uncertain warbling m:ide, v ? 

And oft he shook his hoary head, ) _-% 

But when he caught tiie measure wild, A 

The old man rais'd his face and smil'd, /-i 

And lighten'd up his faded eyy. 
With all a poet's ecstacy ! i 

In varying cadence soft or strong, i 

He swept the sounding chords along; 1 

The present scene, the future lot, 3 

His toils, his wants, were all forgot-, T 

Cold diffidence and age's frost 
In the full tide of song were lost ; 
Each blank in faithless memory void. 
The Poet's glowing thought supply'd. 
And while his Harp responsive rung, 
Twas thus the latest Minstrel sun^ ! w. scott. 



HYMN FOR NOON. 

THE suri is swiftly mounted high, 

It glitters in the southern sky ; 

Its beams with force and glory beat, 

And fruitful earth is fill'd with heat. 

Father, also with thy lire. 

Warm the cold, the dead desire^ 

And make the sacred love of thee. 

Within my soul, a sun to me. 

Let it shine so fairly bright, 

That nothing else be took for light. 

That worldly charms be seen to fade, 

And in its lustre find a shade ; 

Let it strongly shine within, 

To scatter all the clouds of sin, 

That drive when gusts of passion rise. 

And intercept it riora our eyes. 

Let its glory more than vie 

With the sun that lights the sky ; 

Let it swiftly mount in air, 

Mount with that and leave it there ; 

.SlSlilO £ TSL tt^y.;yj^^ ■'■■■ Q' 



338 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

And soar, with more aspiring flight. 

To realms of everlasting light. ^ 

Thus while here I'm forc'd to be, -^^ 

I daily wish to live with thee ; 

And feel that union which thy love 

Will, after death, complete above. ^ 

From my soul I send my pray'r. 

Great Creator, bow thine ear ; 

Thou, from whose propitious sway 

The world has taught to see the day ; 

Who spake the word, and earth begun, V 

And show'd its beauties in the sun ; 

With pleasure I thy creatures view. 

And would with good affection too ; 

Good affection sweetly free. 

Loose from them, and move to thee ; 

O, teach me due returns to give. 

And to thy glory let me live ; 

And then my days shall shine the more. 

Or pass more blessed than before. parnelLi 



HYMN FOR EVENING. 

THE beam-repelling mists arise. 

And Evening spreads obscurer skies : 

The twijight wUl the night forerun^, 

And night itself be soon begun. 

Upon thy knees devoutly bow^ 

And pray the Lord of Glory now. 

To fill thy breast, or deadly sin 

May cause a blinder night within. 

And whether pleasing vapours rise. 

Which gently dim the closing ej^^es ; 

Which make the weary members blest. 

With sweet refreshment in their rest ; 

Or whether spirits in the brain 

Dispel their soft embrace again ; 

And on my watchful bed I stay. 

Forsook by sleep, and waiting day ; 

Be God for ever in my view. 

And never he forsake me too ; 

But still as day concludes in night. 

To break again the new-bom light; ,j 

His wondrous bounty let me find, ^ ^j ^^g^ 

With still a more enhghten'd mind ; i bnA 



1 



.u-i 



dIASSrCAL ENGLISH POETRY. 339 

When grace and love in one agree^ 

Grace from God, and love from me ; 

Grace that will from Heaven inspire. 

Love that seals it in desire : 

Grace and love that mingle beams. 

And fill me with increasing flames. 

Thou that hast thy palace far 

Above the moon and every star ; 

Thou that sittest on a throne 

To which the night was never known. 

Regard my voice and make me bless'd 

By kindly granting its request. 

If thoughts on thee my soul employ. 

My darkness will afford me joy. 

Till thou shalt call, and I shall soar. 

And part with darkness evermore. parnell. 

IDLENESS. 

GODDESS of ease, leave Lethe's brinks 

Obsequious to the Muse and me ; 
For once endure the pain to think. 

Oh ! sweet Insensibility ! 

Sister of Peace and Indolence, 

Bring, Muse, bring numbers soft and slow 
Elaborately void of sense. 

And sweetly thoughtless let them flow. 

Near to some cowslip-painted mead;, 
There let me doze out the dull hours. 

And under me let Flora spread 
A sofa of her softest flow'rs. 

Where, Philomel, your notes you breathe 
Forth from behind the neighbouring pine. 

And murmurs of the stream beneath 
Still flow in unison with thine. 

For thee, O Idleness, the woes 

Of life we patiently endure. 
Thou art the source whence labour flows. 

We shun thee but to make thee sure. 

For who'd sustain war's toil and waste. 
Or who th' hoarse thund'ring of thie gea ; 

But to be idle at the last. 

And find a pleasing end in thee ? smart. 

Q2 



^40 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

TO THE BEE, ' 

SWEET Labourer ! 'midst the Summer's golden hour, 

Full oft I trace thy little busy flight. 
With pleasure see thee perch from flow'r to flowl^ 

On violets, woodbines, roses, lilies light ! 

Yet what to thee is Summer's golden smile ? 

And what to thee the flow'r-enamell'd plain ? 
Will gratitude reward thy daily toil ? 

No, no, thou workest for reward in vain ! 

Not long the hive of treasure will be thine. 

Rapacity will force thy little door. 
Those treasures with thy life must thou resign, 

A breathless victim on the fragrant store ! 

O base return ! to lose thy precious breath. 
And I, ye Gods ! as basely shall be serv'd ; 

Thou for thy treasures wilt be smok'd to death. 
And I, the boney'd Poet, shall be starv'd ! 

WOLCOTT. 



DESCRIPTION OF A RAM. 

— — HAVING reach'd a bridge that overarch'd 
Th« hasty rivulet where it lay becalm'd 
In a deep pool, by happy chance we saw 
A twofold image ; on a ^&ssj bank 
A snow-white ram, and in a crystal stream 
Another and the same. Most beautiful 
On the green turf, with his imperial front 
Shaggy, and bold, and wreathed horns superb , 
The breathing creature stood. As beautiful 
Beneafti him shewed his shadowy counterpart. 
Each had his glowing mountains, each his ley. 
And each seem'd centre of his own fair world : 
Antipodes unconscious of each other. 
Yet in partition with their several spheres 
Blended in perfect stillness to our sight. 

WORDSWORT :, 



TO A FRIEND. 

SEE, fairest of the nymphs, that play 
In vernal meadows, blooming May 

Conies tripping o'er the plain : 



"CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. Sil 

Lo ! all the gay, the genial powers 
That deck the woods, or tend the flowers, 
Compose her smiling train. 

See, softer rosier hues adorn 

The glowing cheek of blushing morn. 

When first she wakes the light ! 
Behold ! a thousand gentle shades 
Attend the evening, o'er the glades. 

And glad the sullen night. 

What sweets perfume the balmy air ! 
While Flora bids her glittering care 

In all their beauty shine. 
See Nature round, beneath, above. 
All big with joy, all breathing love. 

And gratitude divine. 

O say ! amid these general smiles. 
What care corrodes — what joy beguiles 

My friend's unsettled soul? 
Say, does he join the senseless throng 
Of Comus' sons, and raise the song 

Around th' empoison'd bowl ? 

But no. ! my ***'« generous mind, 
Adorn'd with native taste, reiin'd 

By all the powers of art ; 
Would never basely thus resign. 
For all the feverish joys of wine. 

The raptures of the heart. 

Or does some maiden, heavenly fair. 
With rosy cheeks, and auburn hair. 

And Love's inviting breast. 
At length awaken young Desire, 
Set all his glowing soul on fire. 

And break his golden rest ? 

But lo ! a thousand maidens, all 
Just ready to obey his call. 

Display their vernal charms ; 
And trim their locks, and tune their sighs. 
And try the force of sparkhng eyes. 

And wave their snowy arms ! 

Thus Spring revives, and Summer glows, 
And Beauty smiles, and nectar flows. 
In vain to soothe his soul ; 

Q3 



342 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

While led by Fancy's playful blaze, I'Mi BnA 
The longing youth deluded strays,^ itiisia biiA 
/ Unblest, from pole to pole. - t^^ 

Alas ! my friend, how vain to roam, wM 9xiT 
And seek abroad the joys that home, vbjsaiiA 

And home alone bestows ; ^^ 
The beam of mirth that lights the faee— ^^i A 
The love that warms the fond enlbrace— ''A 

The bliss that ever grows. 

What tho' the awful pride of Rome 
Unequaird swells the daring doom, 

And emulates the skies : 
Thro* many a temple's sad remains 
Spread o'er Hesperia's storied plains. 

In broken pomp arise : 

Tho' o'er Helvetia's magic ground 
Rocks swell on rocks confus'd around. 

And torrents roar between : 
Thro' here a town, and there a farm, 
Perch'd on the breezy summit, charm. 

And soothe the sylvan scene : 

What tho' the Rhine, supreme of floods. 
Thro' castled cliffs, and pendant woods. 

And towns renown'd in song ; 
For ever full — for ever great — 
Thro' every age, in equal state. 

Majestic rolls along : 

Yet say, can Art, with all its toys — 
Can Nature's nobler, better joys. 

Content the restless mind ? 
Like morning dreams, the phantoms play. 
One fleeting hour — then fede away. 

Nor leave a trace behind. 

Then homeward turn ! there at the gate, 
A thousand pleasures ready wait — 

A thousand dear delights ; 
Amuse the vacant hours of day. 
Around the social table play. 

And brighten up thy nights. 

There, fairest of the powers above. 
Young Hymen waves the torch of Love, 
And woos thee to advance ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. S43= 

And there the Loves, a blooming band. 
And sister Graces, hand in hand. 
Begin the mj^stic dance. 

The Muse, that loves a green retreat. 
Already hovers o'er thy seat. 

And wanders thro' thy groves ; 
Already, hark ! the tuneful powers 
Awake the echoes of thy bowers. 

And sing thy future loves. 

Alas ! my ***, silent, strong. 

Time's treach'rous current steals along. 

And bears us on his tide : 
While thinly scatter'd up and down, 
A flower may deck, a thicket crown. 

Its bleak, unsightly side. 

Then hasten ! snatch each flow'ret, while 

The Fates allow it still to smile. 
For soon its date is o'er ; 

And, as you pass, enjoy the shade. 

Whose vernal honours soon must fade- 
Must fade — to bloom no more. 

ANON. 



THE BLIND BEGGAR. 

WELCOME, thou man of sorrows, to my door ! 

A willing balm thy wounded heart shall find ; 
And lo ! thy guiding dog my cares implore ! 

O haste, and shelter from th' unfeeling wind. 

Alas ! shall Mis'ry seek my cot with sighs. 
And humbly sue for piteous alms my ear ; 

Yet disappointed go with lifted eyes. 

And on my threshold leave th' upbraiding tear ? 

Thou bowest for the pity I bestow : 

Bend not to me, because I mourn distress ; 

I am thy debtor — much to thee I owe; 

For learn — the greatest blessing is to bless. 

Thy hoary locks, and wan and pallid cheek. 
And quiv'ring lip, to Fancy seem to say: 

*' A more than common Beggar we bespeak ; 
" A form that once has known a happier day.**^ 

Q4 



M4. C L AS%1€ A L E NG L IS H PO ts T R Y . 

Thy sightless orbs, and venerable beard, '^nini 3i inn A 
And press'd, by weight of years, thy palsy*i^iMd; 

Tho' silent, speak with tongues that must be heard. 
Nay, must command, if Virtue be not deadr^'^ ^**-''^ 

Thy shatter'd, yet thine awe-inspiring form, ---^ ^'^■^A^ 
Shall give the village lads the soften 'd soul. 

To aid the victims of Life's frequent storm, . -i 

And smooth the surges that around them roil^*^'® ^-^ 

Teach them that Poverty may Merit shroud ; '^i: 

And teach, that Virtue may from Jtlisery spring ; ; ^ 

Flame like the lightning from the frowning cloud, ■ -/■ 
That spreads on Nature's smile its raven wing, 

O let me own the heart which pants to bless ; 

That nobly scorns to hide the useless store ; 
But looks around for objects of distress. 

And triumphs in a sorrow for the poor ! 

When Heav'n on man is pleas'd its wealth to show*!*. 
Ah, what an envied bliss doth Heaven bestoW^S 

To raise pale Merit in her hopeless hour, ii-^Hl 

And lead Despondence from the tomb of Woe ! 

Lo ! not the little birds shall chirp in vain. 

And, hovering round me, vainly court my care ; 

While I possess the life-preserving grain. 

Welcome, ye chii*ping tribe, to peck your share. 

How can I hear your songs at Spring's return. 

And hear while Summer spreads her golden store; 

Yet, when the gloom of Winter bids ye mourn, 1 
Heed not the plaintive voice that charm'd before ? 

Since Fortune, to my cottage not unkind. 

Strews with some flow'rs the road of life for jne^ 

Ah ! can humanity desert my mind ? moxoD ai-' 

Shall I not soften the rude flint for thee?, v^ bet A 

Then welcome. Beggar, from the rains and snow. 
And warring elements, to warmth and peace ; 

Nay, thy companion, too, shall comfort know. 
Who shiv'ring shakes away the icy fleeceii.i : -i " 

And lo, he lays him by the fire, elate ; ^ • * aiii^A 

Now on his master turns his gladden'd eyes ; tfiX 

Leaps up to greet him on their change of fate, nwi^ A 
Licks his lov'd hand, and then beneath him lies. - 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRV.' 34^ 

A hut is mine, amidst a sheltering groveV s?-^' "^^^ ^' - 
A Hermit there, exalt to Heav'n thy praise; 

There shall the village children show their love. 
And hear from thee the tales of other days. 

There shall our feather'd friend, the bird of morn. 
Charm thee with orisons to opening day ; 

And there the redbreast, on the leafless thorn, " ,~ 
At eve shall soothe thee with a simple lay.^'^^^^ ^^ 

When Fate shall call thee from a world of woe. 
Thy friends around shall watch thy closing eyes ; 

With tears, behold thy gentle spirit go. 

And wish to join its passage to the skies, wolcott. 



THE MUFFLED DRUM. 

AH I me, how mouniful) wan, and slow. 
With arms reversed the soldiers come — 

Dirge-sounding trumpets full of woe. 
And sad to hear — the Muffled Drum ! 

Advancing to the house of pray'r. 

Still sadder flows the dolesome strain. 
E'en Industry forgets her care 

And joins the melancholy train ! 

O ! after all the toils of wai', ' 

How blest the brave man lays him down ! 

His bier is a triumphal car — 
His grave is glory and renown ! 

What tho' nor friends nor kindred dear. 

To grace his obsequies attend ? 
His comrades are his brothers here. 

And every hero is his friend ! 

See Love and Truth all woe-begone, 

And Beauty drooping in the crowd— 
Their thoughts intent on him alone. 

Who sleeps for ever in his shroud 1 

Again the trumpet slowly sounds, woM 

The soldier's last funerealhymn— • '^ ^ ,.^^^,^ j 

Agjin the Muffled Drum rebounds, ^^^^^^^S ^" 

And every eye with griet is dim i " 

Q5 



34i6 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY* ' 

The gen'rous steed which late he rode^Ht-f q'^^'"^ 

Seems too its master to depJore, 
And follows to his last abode. 

The warrior who returns no more ! 

For him far hence a mother sighs. 
And fancies comforts yet to come ! 

He'll never bless her longing eyes. 

She'll only hear the Muffled Drum ! mayne. 



THE WAY TO HAPPINESS, 

HOW long, ye miserably blind. 

Shall idle dreams engage your mind ; 

How long the passions make their flight 

At empty shadows of delight. 

No more in paths of error stray. 

The Lord thy Jesus is the way, 

The spring of happiness, and where 

Should men seek happiness but there ? 

Then run to meet him at your need. 

Run with boldness, run with speed. 

For he forsook his own abode 

To meet thee more than half the road. 

He laid aside his radiant crown. 

And love for mankind brought Iiirrl down 

To thirst and hunger, pain and woe. 

To wounds, to death itself below ; 

And he, that sufFer'd these alone 

For all the world, despises none. 

To bid the soul that's sick, be clean. 

To bring the lost to life again ; 

To comfort those that grieve for ill. 

Is his peculiar goodness still. 

And, as the thoughts of parents run 

Upon a dear and only son. 

So kind a love his mercies show. 

So kind and more extremely so. 

Thrice happy men ! (or find a phrase 
That speaks your bliss with greater pr^se) 
Who most obedient to thy call. 
Leaving pleasures, leaving all. 
With heart, with soul, with strength incline, 
O sweetest Jesu ! to be thine. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 347 

Who know thy will, observe thy ways. 

And in thy service spend their days ; 

Ev'n death, that seems to set them free, 

But brmgs them closer still to thee. parnell. 



FRrENDSHIP, LOVE, AND TRUTH. 

WHERE Friendship, Love, and Truth abound 

Among a band of brothers. 
The cup of joy goes gaily round. 

Each shares the bliss of others. 
Sweet roses grace the thorny way 

Along this vale of sorrow ; 
The flowers that shed their leaves to-day. 

Shall bloom again to-morrow. 
How grand in age, how fair in youth. 
Are holy Friendship, Love, and Truth I 

On halcyon wings our moments pass. 

Life's cruel cares beguiling ; 
Old Time lays down his scythe and glass, 

Jn gay good-humour smiling ; 
With ermine beard and forelock grey. 

His reverend front adorning. 
He looks like Winter turn'd to May, 

Night soften'd into Morning. 
How grand in age, how fair in youth, 
Are holy Friendship, Love, and Truth I 

From these delightful fountains flow 

Ambrosial rills of pleasure : 
Can man desire, can Heaven bestow, 

A more resplendent treasure ? 
Adorn'd with gems so richly bright. 

We'll form a constellation. 
Where every star, with modest light, < 

Shall gild his proper station. 5 

How grand in age, how fair in youth. 
Are holy Friendship, Love, and Truth 1 * 



MONTGOMEBT 



^KGY ON A BLACKBIRD, 

THE Sim had chas'd the winter snow. 
And kindly loos'd the frost-bound soil ; 

The melting streams began to flow. 

And ploughmen urg'd their annual toil. 

'Twas then, amidst the vernal throng, 
When Nature wakes to mirth and love, 

A Blackbird rais'd his amorous song. 
And thus it echo'd thro' the grove : 

** O ! fairest of the feather'd train, 
" For whom I sing, for whom I burn, 

" Attend with pity to ray strain, 
" And grant my love a kind return. 

" For see, the winter storms are flown, 
'' And zephyrs gently fan the air ! 

*' Let us the genial influence own, 
" Let us the vernal pastime share. 

*' The raven plumes his jetty wing, 
" To please his croaking paramour ; 

" The larks responsive love-tales sing, 
"^ And tell their passion as they soai'. 

" But ti'ust me, love, the raven's wing 
" Is not to be compar'd with mine ; 

«' Nor can the lark so sweetly sing 

" As I, who strength with sweetness join. 

" With thee, I'll prove the sweets of love, 
'^ With thee divide the cares of Hfe ; 

" No fonder husband in the grove, 
"And none than thee a happier wife. 

" I'll lead thee to the clearest rill, 

" Whose streams among the pebbles sti*ay ; 
' " There will we sit and sip our fill, 
" Or on the flow'ry border play. 

" I'll guide thee to the thickest brake, , - ^ «a 
<• Impervious to the school-boy's eyef ^/^^J[^ 

" For thee, the plaster'd nest I'll make,'y| ^^^^ ^-, 
*' And on thy downy pinions lie. ^^ ? o 



CLASSrcAL ENGLISH POETRY. M9 

" To get thee food, I'll range the fields, 

" And cull the best of ev'ry kind ; 
" Whatever Nature's bounty yields, 

" Or Love's assiduous care can find. 

*' And when my lovely mate would stray, 
'* 1 o taste the Summer's sweets at large, 

" At home I'll wait the live-long day, 

" And tend, well-pleas'd, our infant charge. 

*' When prompted by a mother's care, 

" Thy warmth shall form th' imprison'd young, 

" With thee the task I'll fondly share, 
*^ Or cheer thy labours with my song." 

He ceas'd his song. — The melting dame 

With tender pity heard his strain ; 
She felt — she own'd a mutual flame. 

And hasten'd to relieve his pain. 

He led her to the nuptial bow'r. 

And nestled closely by her side : 
The happiest bridegroom in that hour — 

And she the most enamour'd bride. 

Next morn he waVd her with a song, 

'' Arise ! behold the new-born day ! 
" The lark his matin peal has rung ; 

" Arise, my love, and come away." 

Together thro' the fields they stray'd. 

And at the verdant riv'let's side, 
Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd and play d. 
With honest joy, and decent pride. 

But O ! my Muse with pain relates 

The mournful sequel of my tale ; 
Sent by an order of the Fates, 

A gunner met them in the vale, 

Alarm'd, the lover cry*d, " My dear, 
" Haste, haste away ! — from danger fly ! 

'^ Here, gunner, take thy vengeance here ! 
'^ O ! spare my love, and let me die " 

At him the gunner took his aim ;— 

The aim he took was much too. true : 
O ! had he chose some other game, 

Or shot as he had us'd to do ! 



350 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Divided pair ! forgive the wrong, •» ii:;:Ti ? 

While I with tears your fate rehearse : 
I'll join the widow's plaintive song. 

And save the lover in my verse. jaoo. 



THE DYING BARD. 

DINAS EMLINN lament, for the moment is nigh 
When mute in the woodlands thine echoes shall die. 
No more by sweet Teivi Cadwallon shall rave. 
And mix his wild notes with the wild dashing wave ! 

In Spring and in Autumn, thy glories of shade 
Unhonour'd shall flourish, unhonour'd shall fade. 
For soon shall be lifeless the eye and the tongue 
That view'd them with rapture, with rapture that sung ! 

Thy sons, Dinas Emiinn, may march in their pride. 
And chase the proud Saxon from Prestatyn's side 
Eut where is the harp shall give life to their name ? 
And where is the Bard shall give heroes their fame ? 

And oh, Dinas Emlinn ! thy daughters so fair. 
Who heave the white bosom and wave the dark hair. 
What tuneful enthusiasts shall worship their eye 
When half of their charms with Cadwallon shall die ? 

Then adieu, silver Teivi ! I quit thy lov'd scene. 
To join the dim choir of the Bards who have been. 
With Lewarch, and Meilor, and Merlin the Old, 
And sage Taliessin high harping to hold. 

And adieu, Dinas Emlinn ! still green be thy shades, 
Unconquer'd thy warriors, and matchless thy maids ! 
And thou, whose faint warbliugs my weakness can tell. 
Farewell my lov'd Harp ! my last treasure, farewell ! 

WALTER SCOTT. 



EVENING. 



THE deep'ning shades o'erspread the golden west. 
The mottled clouds sweep on before the breeze ; 

Eude Labour leaves his weary sons to rest, 
And sea-like murmurs sound among the trees. 



CLASSICAL: ENGLISH POETRY. 351 

The muffled owl sails by on silent wing. 
The downy moth pursues his dusky way ; 

Light-crested gnats their busy carols sing, 
And closing flow'rets mourn departing day. 

Soft dews descending bathe the thirsty ground, 
A mingled fragrance cheers the pensive night ; 

Dim rising vapours slowly roll around. 
And wand'ring glow-worms shed their emerald light. 

Now breathe the high romantic love-lorn tale. 

And mix ideal scenes of fairy bliss ; 
Let airy harps from ev'ry passing, gale 

Steal heav'nly notes with soft enchanting kiss. 

The mingled charm shall cheat my ardent soul ; 

And, gleaming thro' the dim fantastic light ; 
Bright shadowy forms around my head shall roll. 

And golden visions bless my ravish'd sight. 



ON A DISTANT VIEW OF ENGLAND. 

AH ! from mine eyes the tears unbidden start, 
Albion as now thy cliffs (that white appear 
Far o'er the wave, and their proud summits rear 

To meet the beams of mom) my beating heart 

With eager hope and filial transport hails 

Scenes of mji youth ; reviving gales ye bring, 
As when erewhile die tuneful morn of Spring 

Joyous awoke amidst your blooming vales. 

And fill'd with fragrance every painted plain : 
Fled are those hours, and all the joys they gave. 
Yet still I gaze and count each rising wave 

That bears me nearer to your haunts again ; 

If haply, 'mid those woods and vales so fair. 

Stranger to peace, I yet may meet her there, bowles. 



RESIGNATION. 



O GOD, whose thunder shakes the sky ; 

Whose eye this atom globe surveys ; 
To Thee, my only rock, I fly. 

Thy mercy in thy justice praise. 



3iP,i, J CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRTSA iD 

The mystic mazes of thy will, *9fi ^itJOHoH -ih"^ 

The shadows of celestial light, -a^J i^d m saniiiB 

Are past the power of human skill— 4i3W srfJ elXft sri?^^ 
But what th' Eternal acts is right li aJJ0*J9n91 bnA 

O^ teach me in the trying hour, TI nsd'l 

When anguish swells the dewy tear, ?'i nisN 

To still my sorrows, own thy pow'r, ' i / 
Thy goodness love, thy justice fear. 

If in this bosom ought but Thee >vfi9H ma' '■ 

Encroaching sought a boundless sway, . . ..>i' > ' 

Omniscience could the danger see. 
And Mercy look the cause away. 

Then why, my soul, dost thou complain ? 

Why drooping seek the dark recess ? 
Shake off the melancholy chain. 

For God created all to bless. 

But ah ! my breast is human still— 

The rising sigh, the falling tear, v 

My languid vitals' feeble rill. 
The sickness of my soul declare. 

But yet, with fortitude resign'd, 

I'll thank th' inflicter of the blow ; 
Forbid the sigh, compose my mind. 

Nor let the gush of mis'ry flow. 

The gloomy mantle of the night. 
Which on my sinking spirits steals ; 

Will vanish at the morning light. 

Which God, my East, my Sun, reveals. 

CHATTERTON. 



TRUTH, HONOUK, HQNESTY. 

IN thee, bright maid, tho' all the virtues shine. 
With rival beams, and every grface is thine; ^ 

Yet three, distinguish'd by thy early voice. 
Excite our praise, and well deserve thy choice. 
Immortal Tiuth in heaven itself displays 
Her charms celestial, born, and purest rays. 
Which thence in streams, like golden sunshine, flow, 
And shed their light on minds like yours below. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 353 

Fair Honour, next in beauty and in grace;'^^^^.'^!'' 
Shines in her turn, and claims the second place ; 
She fills the well-born soul with noble fires. 
And generous thoughts and godlike acts inspireS."^" 

Then Honesty, with native air, succeeds. 

Plain is her look, unartful are her deeds ; 

And, just alike to friends and foes, she draws 

The bounds of right and wrong, nor errs from equal laws. 

From Heaven this scale of Virtue thus descends. 

By just degrees, and thy full choice defends. 

So when, in visionary strains, by night 

Attending angels bless'd good Jacob's sight. 

Thy mystic ladder thus appeared to rise. 

Its foot on earth, its summit in the skies. hughes. 



MELANCHOLY. 

THE melancholy pleasures bring 

No healthy, genial bloom ; 
Corrupt at root, like flow'rs that spring 

And bud upon a tomb. 

They raise a joy from grief, but cloy 

The mind that with them strays. 
And when is vanished all the joy. 

The grief that caus'd it stays. 

So ruin, when the lightning darts, ...iv' 

With brightness is combin'd ,* 
And so the briglitness soon departs, ^ 

But leaves the scathe behind. 

The moon is powerless with her hmva.i 

To ripen or to warm. 
Yet, when she gazes on the streahip-^ - 

Reflects in it her form : 

■: t 

So, melancholy never tints * 

The mind that owns her care %r^ 

With health or warmth, but only prints ? °rfW 

Her Q58KU cold image, there^ , , • ^l . 



S54j classical English poetry, 

blindness. 

AH ! think of June's delicious rays, 

The eye of Sorrow can iJlume, 
Or wild December's beamless days. 

Can fling o'er all a transient gloom : 
Ah ! think if skies obscure or bright. 

Can thus depress or cheer the mind. 
Ah ! think 'midst clouds of utter night, 

What mournful moments wait the Blind ! 

And who shall tell his cause for woe, 

To love the wife he ne'er must see. 
To be a Sire, yet not to know. 

The silent babe that climbs the knee ; 
To have his feelings daily torn. 

With pain the passing meal to find ; 
To live distress'd, and die forlorn 

Are ills that oft await the Blind ! 

When to the breezy uplands led 

At noon, or blushing eve, or morn, 
He hears the red-breast o'er his head. 

While round him breathes the scented thorn , • 
But oh ! instead of Nature's face. 

Hills, dales, and woods, and streams combin'd. 
Instead of tints, and forms and grace. 

Night's blackest mantle shrouds the Blind ! 

If rosy Youth bereft of sight. 

Midst countless thousands pines unblest. 
As the gay flower withdrawn from light 
Bows to the earth where all must rest ; 
Ah ! think when life's dechning hours 
/ To chilling penury are consign'd. 
And pain has palsied all his powers. 
Ah ! think what woes await the Blind I 

RUSHTON. 



TO A LADY, ON THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 

COME, then, Dione, let us range the grove. 
The science of the feather'd choirs explore ; 

Hear linnets argue, larks descant of love. 
And blame the gloom of solitude no more. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 355 

My doubts subside — 'tis no Italian song, 
Nor senseless ditty, cheers the vernal tree; 

Ah I who, that hears Dione's tuneful tongue. 
Shall doubt that music may with sense agrtie ? 

And come, my Muse! that lov'st the sylvan shade; 

Envolve the mazes, and the mist dispel : 
Translate the song ; convince my doubting maid. 

No solemn dervise can explain so well. 

Pensive beneath the twilight shades I sate. 
The slave of hopeless vows, and cold disdain ! 

When Philomel address'd his mournful mate. 
And thus I constru'd the mellifluent strain : 

" Sing on, my bird — -the liquid notes prolong, 

" At every note a lover sheds a tear ; 
" Sing on, my bird — 'tis Damon hears thy song ; 

" Nor doubt to gain applause, when lovers hear. 

" He the sad source of our complaining knows ; 

" A foe to Tereus, and to lawless love ! 
" He mourns the story of our ancient woes : 

" Ah ! could our music his complaints remove ! 

" Yon plains are govem'd by a peerless maid ; 

" And see, pale Cynthia mounts the vaulted sky, 
*' A train of lovers court the chequer'd shade ; 

'^ Sing on, my bird^ and hear thy mate's reply ] 

" Erewhile no shepherd to these woods retir'd, 
*' No lover biess'd the glow-worm's pallid ray : 

" But ilUstarr'd birds, that listening ^lote admir'd, 
'^ Or list'ning envy'd our superior lay. 

" Cheer'd by the sun, the vassals of his power, 
*' Let such by day unite the jarring strains ; 
**8ut let us choose the calm, the silent hour, 
•^ Nor want fit audience, while Dione reigns." 

SHENSTONE. 



THE SHEPHERD. 



LOW in a deep sequester'd vale. 
Where Alpine heights ascend, 

A beauteous nymph, in pilgrim garb, 
Is seen her steps to bend. 



S5$C CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Her olive garland drops with gore ; 

Her scatter'd tresses torn ; 
Her bleeding breast, her bruised feet. 

Bespeak a maid forlorn. 

" From bower, and hall, and palace driven, 

" To these lone wilds I flee, 
*' My name is Peace, I love the cot ; 

" O shepherd, shelter me !" 

" O beauteous pilgrim ! why dost thou 

From bower and palace flee ? 
*< So soft thy voice, so sweet thy look, 

" Sure all would shelter thee." 

'' 1 jke Noah's dove, no rest \ find ; 

'' The din of battle roars, 
*' Where once my steps I lov'd to print 

" Along tiie myrtle shores ! 

" For ever in my frighted ears 

" The savage war-whoop sounds ; 
*^ And, like a panting hare, I fly 

" Before the op'ning hounds." 

" Pilgrim, those spiry groves among 

'^ The mansions thou may'st see, 
" Where cloistered saints chant holy hymns, 

" Sure such would shelter thee !" 

" Those roofs with trophied banners stream, 

" There martial hymns resound ; 
" And, Shepherd, oft from crosier'd hands 

" This breast has felt a wound." 

" Ah ! gentle Pilgrim, glad would I 

" Those tones for ever hear ! 
'^ With thee to share my scanty lot, 

'^ That lot to me were dear. 

*' But lo ! along the vine-clad steep, 

**' The gleam of armour shines ; 
" His scatter'd flock, his straw-roof'd hut, 

" The helpless swain resigns. 

" And now the smouldering flames aspire ; 

" Their lurid light I see ; 
" I hear the human wolves approach : 

" I cannot shelter thee." anon. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 357 

THE GARLAND. 

THE pride of every grove I chose, 

The violet sweet and lily fair. 
The dappled pink, and blushing rose. 

To deck my charming Chloe's hair. 

At morn the nymph vouchsaf *d to place 
Upon her brow the various wreath ; 

The flowers, less blooming than her face. 
The scent, less fragrant than her breath. 

The flowers she wore along the day : 
And every nymph and shepherd said. 

That in her hair they look'd more gay. 
Than glowing in their native bed. 

Undress'd at evening, when she found 
Their odours lost, their colours past ; 

She chang'd her look, and on the ground 
Her garland and her eyes she cast. 

That eye dropt sense distinct and clear. 

As any Muse's tongue could speak. 
When from its lid a pearly tear 

Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek. 

Dissembling what I knew too well : 

My love, my life, said I, explain 
This change of humour : pr'ythee tell ; 

That falling tear — what does it mean ? 

She sigh'd ; she smil'd : and to the flowers 

Pointing, the lovely moralist said ! 
See, friend, in some few fleeting hours, 

See yonder, what a change is made ! 

Ah me ! the blooming pride of May, 

And that of Beauty, are but one : 
At morn, both flourish bright and gay ; 

Both fade at evening, pale and gone. 

At dawn poor Stella danc'd and sung ; 

The amorous youth around her bo'.v'd : 
At night her fatal knell was rung ; 
T saw, and kiss'd her, in her shroud. 



'M^iS CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Such as she is, who died to-day, 

Such I, alas! may be to-morrow: <=. 

Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display 

The justice of thy Chloe's sorrow. pnioR, 



A GARDEN. 



g^i^ 



DELIGHTFUL mansion ! blest retreat ! V 

Where all is silent, all is sweet ! 

Here Contemplation prunes her wings. 

The raptur'd Muse more tuneful sings ; 

While May leads on the cheerful hours, , 

And opens a new world of flowers ; ^ 

Gay Pleasure here all dresses wears, '; 

And in a thousand shapes appears. 

Pursued by Fancy, how she roves ,f 

Thro' airy walks, and m useful groves ; ] ' 

Springs in each plant and blossom'd tree, C^J 

And charms in all I hear and see ! ,^I 

In this elysiura while I stray. 

And Nature's fairest face survey. 

Earth seems new-born, and life more bright; 

Time steals away, and smooths his flight 

And Thought's bewilder'd in delight. 

Where are the crowds I saw of late ? 

What are those tales of Europe's fate ; 

Of Anjou, and the Spanish crown ; 

And leagues to pull usurpers down ; 

Of marching armies, distant wars ; 

Of factions, and domestic jars ? 

Sure these are last night's dreams, no more ; 

Or some romance, read lately o'er : 

Like Homer's antique tale of Troy, 

And powers confederate to destroy 

Priam's proud house, the Dardan name. 

With him that stole the ravish'd dame, " 

And, to possess another's right. 

Durst the whole world to arms excite. 

Come, gentle Sleep, my eye-lids close, . 

These dull impressions help me lose : 

Let Fancy take her wing, and find 

Some better dreara to soothe my mind ; 

Or waking, let me learn to live ; 

The prospect will instruction give. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. S59 

For see, where beauteous Thames does glide 

Serene^ but with a fruitful tide ^ 

Free from extremes of ebb and flow : 

Not swell'd too high, nor sunk too low. 

Such let my life's smooth current be. 

Till, from Time's narrow shore set free. 

It mingles with th' eternal sea ; 

And, there enlarg'd, shall be no more 

That trifling thing it was before. hughes. 



} 



THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 

HAIL Sabbath ! thee I hail — the Poor Man's day. 

On other days the man of toil is doom'd 

To eat his joyless bread lonely — the ground 

Both seat and board, screen'd from the Winter's cold 

And Summer's heat by neighbouring hedge or tree ; 

But on this day embosom'd in his home 

He shares the frugal meals with those he loves. — 

With those he loves — he shares the heart-felt joy 

Of giving thanks to God — not thanks of form, 

A word and a grimace — but reverently 

With cover'd face and upward earnest eye ! 

Hail Sabbath ! thee I hail — the Poor Man's day, 

The pale mechanic ?ion) has leave to breathe 

The morning air pure from the city's smoke. 

While wandering slowly up the river side 

He meditates on him whose pow'r he marks. 

In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough. 

As in the tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom 

Around its roots — and while he thus surveys 

With elevated joy each rural charm. 

He hopes, yet fears presumption in his hope, Jl 

That Heav'n may be o?ie Sabbath without end!*; 

GRAHAM. 



THE SHEPHERD AND THE PHILOSOPHER, i 

REMOTE from cities liv'd a swain, 
Unvex'd w^ith all the cares of gain ; 
His head was silver'd o'er with age. 
And long experience made him sage ; 
In summer's heat, and winter's cold. 
He fed his flock, and penn'd the fold ; 



CLASSICAL EKGLISH POE^&m 1 

His hours in cheerful labour flew; ■ f-^ 

Nor envy nor ambition knew ; ill - 

His wisdom and his honest fame 
Thro' all the country rais'd his name. 

A deep philosopher (whose rules 

Of moral life were drawn from schools) 

The Shepherd's homely cottage sought. 

And thus explor'd his reach of thought : 

" Whence is thy learning ? hath thy toil 

'' O'er books consum'd the midnight oil ? 

" Hast thou old Greece and Rome survey'd, 

"^^ And the vast sense of Plato weigh'd ? 

•' Hath Socrates thy soul refin'd, 

" And hast thou fathom'd TuUy's mind ? 

" Or, like the wise Ulysses, thrown, 

" By various fates, on realms unknown ; 

" Hast thou thro' many cities stray'd, 

"' Their customs, laws, and manners, v/eigh'd ? 

The Shepherd modestly repiy'd ; 
" I ne'er the paths of learning try'd ; 
'' Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts, 
" To read mankind, their laws, and arts ; 
" For man is practis'd in disguise, 
" He cheats the most discerning eyes. 
'^ Who by that search shall wiser grow ? 
'^ When we ourselves we never know. 
'^ The little knowledge I have gain'd, 
" Was all from simple Nature drain'd ; 
" Hence my life's maxims took their rise, 
" Hence grew my settled hate to vice. 
" The daily labours of the bee 
" Awake my soul to industry. 
'^ Who can observe the careful ant, 
'' And not provide for future w^ant ? 
'' My dog (the trustiest of his kind) 
" With gratitude inflames my mind : 
" I mark his true, his faithful way, 
" And in my service copy Tray;. 
" In constancy and nuptial love, 
" r learn my duty from the dove : 

' The hen, who from the chilly air. 

' With pious wing, protects her care, 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. SS^i 

" And every fowl that flies at large, *'H 

" Instruct me in a parent's charge. ''^"^ 

" From Nature too I take my rule, 4<^ 

" To shun contempt and ridicule. 
'^ I never, with important air, 
" In conversation overbear. . , 

" Can grave and formal pass for wise, '—r 

" When men the solemn owl despise ? 
" My tongue within my lips I rein ; 
" For who talks much must talk in vain. ^ ^ ;, 
" We from the wordy torrent fly, : 

" Who listens to the chattering pie ? 
*" Nor would I, with felonious flight, 
<^ By stealth invade my neighbour's right : 
'^ Rapacious animals we hate ! 
'' Kites, hawks, and wolves, deserve their fate. 
" Do not we just abhorrence find 
'^ Against the toad and serpent kind } 
" But Envy, Calumny, and Spite, 
*' Bear stronger venom in then* bite, 
" Thus every object of creation 
" Can furnish hints to contemplation ; 
"' And, from the most minute and mean, 
*' A virtuous mind can morals glean," 

" Thy fame is just," the Sage replies ! 

" Thy virtue proves thee truly wise. 

" Pride often guides the author's pen, 

'* Books as affected are as men : 

^' But he wlio studies Nature's laws, 

'' From certain truth his maxims draws ; 

" And those, without our schools, suffice 

" To make men moral, good, and wise." gay 



DIRGE IN CYMBELINE. 

TO fair Fidele's grassy tomb. 

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring 
Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom. 

And rifle all the breathing Spring. 

No wailing ghost shall dare appear 
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove ,* 

But shepherd lads assemble here. 
And melting virgins own their love. 



362 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POBTRY. 

No withered witch shall here be seen. 
No goblins lead their nightly crew ; 
The female fays shall haunt the green, 
, ; And dress thy grave with pearly dew ! jorf;! bnA 

The redbreast oft at evening hours "-" 

Shall kindly lend its little aid. 
With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers, 

To deck the ground where thou art laid. 

When howling winds and beating rain, o^'^ i 

In tempests shake the sylvan cell ; 
Or 'midst the chace on ev'ry plain. 

The tender thought on thee shall dwell. --^ - ' - 

Each lonely scene shall thee restore, >: '*:bLai|? loV' 

For thee the tear be duly shed ; 
Belov'd, till hfe can charm no more. 

And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead. COLLINS. 



HYMN TO LIGHT. 

FIRST-BORN of Chaos, who so fair didst come. 
From the old Negro's darksome womb ! 
Which, when it saw the lovely child. 

The melancholy mass put on kind looks, and smil'd. 

Thou tide of glory, which no rest dost know. 

But ever ebb and ever flow ! 

Thou golden shower of a ti'ue Jove I pove ! 
Who does in thee descend, and heav'n to earth make 

Hail, active Nature's watchful life and health ! ta f .1? :t 
Her joy, her ornament, and wealth I 
Hail to thy husband. Heat, and thee ! [[he ! 

Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty bridegroom 

Say, from what golden quivers of the sky 

Do all thy winged arrows fly ? 

Swiftness and power by birth are thine : 
From thy great sire they came, thy sire the Word Divine. 

'Tis, I believe, this archery to show. 

That so much cost in colours thou. 
And skill in painting dost betow 

Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly bq^n;?: 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY; S6$ 

Swift as light thoughts their empty career run. 
Thy race is finish'd when begun ; 
Let a post-angel start with thee. 

And thou the goal of earth shall reach as soon as he. 

Thou in the moon's bright chariot, proud and gay. 
Dost thy bright wood of stars survey ; 
And all the year dost with thee bring 

A thousand flowery lights, thine own nocturnal spring. 

Thou, Scythian-like, dost round thy lands above 
Thy sun's gilt tent for ever move. 
And still as thou in pomp dost go, 

The shining pageants of the world attend thy show. 

Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn 
The humble glow-worms to adorn. 
And with those living spangles gild 

(O greatness without pride !) the bushes of the field. 

Night, and her ugly subject, thou dost fright. 
And Sleep, the lazy owl of night ; 
Asham'd and fearful to appear, [Sphere. 

They screen their horrid shapes, with the black hemis- 

With them there hastes, and wildly takes th* alarm. 
Of painted dreams a busy swarm ; 
At the first opening of thine eye, 

The various clusters break, the antic atoms fly. 

The guilty serpents, and obscener beasts. 

Creep conscious to their secret rests : 
Nature to thee does reverence pay, 

III omens and ill sights remove out of thy way. 

At thy appearance. Grief itself is said 

To shake his wings, and rouse his head ; 
And cloudy Care has often took 

A gentle beamy smile, reflected from thy look. 

At thy appearance. Fear it^^elf grows bold ; 

Thy sunshine melts away his cold ; 

Encourag'd at the sight of thee. 
To the cheek colour comes, and firmness to the knee. 

Ev'n Lust, the master of a harden'd face. 

Blushes if thou be'st in the place ; 
To Darkness' curtains he retires. 

In sympathizing night he rolls his smoky fires. 

U2 



S64 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

When, goddess, thou lift'st up thy waken'd head. 
Out of the Morning's purple bed. 
The choir of birds about thee play. 

And all the joyful world salutes the rising day. 

The ghosts, and monster sprites, that did presume 

A body's priv'iege to assume, 

Vanish again invisibly, 
And bodies gain anew their visibility. 

All the world's bravery, that delights our eyes. 

Is but thy several liveries ; 

Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st. 
Thy nimble pencil paints this landscape as thou go'st. 

A crimson garment is the rose thou wear'st ; 

A crown of studded gold thou bear'st ; 

The virgin lilies, in their white. 
Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light. 

The violet. Spring's little infant, stands 

Girt in thy purple swaddling-bands ; 
On the fair tulip thou dost doat. 

Thou cloth'st it in a gay and parti- coloured coat. 

With flame condens'd, thou dost the jewel fix. 

And solid colours in it mix; 

Flora herself envies to see 
Flov/ers fairer than her own, and durable as she. 

Ah, goddess ! would thou could'st thy hand withhold. 

And be less liberal to gold ; 

Didst thou less value to it give. 
Of how much care, alas! might'st thou poor man relieve! 

To me the sun is more delightful far. 

And all fair days much fairer are : 
But few, ah ! wondrous few there be. 

Who do not gold prefer, O goddess i ev'n to thee. 

Thro' the soft ways of heav'n, and air, and sea. 
Which open all their pores to thee. 
Like a clear river dost thou glide. 

And with thy living stream thro' the close channels slide. 

But where firm bodies thy free course oppose. 
Gently thy source the land o'erflows ; 
Takes their possession, and does make. 

Of colours mingled, light, a thick and standing lake. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 36S 

But the vast ocean of unbounded day 

In th' empyrean heav'n does stay ; 
Thy rivers, lakes, and springs, below, 

From thence took first their rise, thither at last must flow. 

COWLEY. 



WAR. 



-O WAR, what art thou ? 



After the brightest conquest, what remains 

Of all thy glories ? For the vanquished — chains — 

For the proud victor — what ? Alas ! to reign 

O'er desolated nations — a drear waste. 

By one man's crime, by one man's lust of pow'r 

Unpeopled ! Naked plains and ravag'd fields. 

Succeed to smiling harvests and the fruits 

Of peaceful olive — luscious fig and vine ! 

Here — rifled temples are the cavem'd dens ; 

Of savage beasts, or haunt of birds obscene ; ^ 

There : — ^populous cities blacken in the sun. 

And in the gen'ral wreck proud palaces 

Lie undistinguish'd, save by the dun smoke 

Of recent conflagration ! When the song 

Of dear-bought joy, with many a triumph swell'd. 

Salutes the Victor's ear, and soothes his pride. 

How is the grateful harmony profan'd 

With the sad dissonance of Virgins' cries 

Who mourn their Brothers slain ! Of Matrons hoar 

Who clasp their wither'd hands, and fondly ask 

With iteration shrill—- their slaughter'd sons ! 

How is the laurel's verdure stain'd with blood 

And soiled with widows' tears ! hannah more. 



WRITTEN FOR A BEGGAR. 

O MERCY ! Heaven's first attribute. 
Whose care embraces man and brute ! 
Behold me where I shivering stand ; 
Bid gentle Pity stretch her hand 
To want and age, disease and pain. 
That all in one sad-object reign. 
Still feeling bad, still fearing worse. 
Existence is to me a curse : 

R3 



S66 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Yet how to close this weary eye ! 
By my own hand I dare not die: 
And Death, the friend of human woes. 
Who brings the last and sound repose ; 
Death does at dreadful distance keep, jBiltBt ! riA 
And leaves one wretch to wake and weep ! ^^liJLET. 
- ^smoD 

ON RURAL SPORTS. ^ 

THE sun wakes jocund— -all of life, who breathe 
In air, or earth, and lawn, and thicket rove. 

Who swim the surface, or the deep beneath. 
Swell the full chorus of delight and love. 

But what are ye, who cheer the bay of hounds, 
Whose leveird thunder frightens mom's repose. 

Who drag the net, whose hook insidious wounds 
A writhing reptile, type of mightier woes ? 

I see ye come, and havock loose the reins, 
A general groan the general anguish speaks ; 

The stately stag falls butcher'd on the plains. 

The dew of death hangs clammy on his cheeks. ' " 

Ah ! see the pheasant fluttering in the brake. 
Green, azure, gold, but undistinguished gore ! 

Yet spare the tenants of the silver lake ! 
I call in vain — ^they gasp upon the shore. 

A yet ignobler band is guarded round 

With dogs of war, the spuming bull their prize : 

And now he bellows, humbled to the ground ; 
And now they sprawl in bowlings to the skies. 

You too must feel their missile weapons' power. 
Whose clarion charms the midnight's sullen air; 

Thou the morn's harbinger, must mourn the hour. 
Vigil to fasts, and penitence, and prayer. 

Must fatal wars of human avarice, wage 

For milder conflicts, love their palm design'd r 

Now sheath'd in steel, must rival Reason's rage. 
Deal mutual death, and emulate mankind? 

Are these your sovereign joys, creation's lords ? 

Is death a banquet for a godlike soul ? 
Have rigid hearts no sympathizing chords. 

For concord, order, for the harmonious whole .^ 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. $j57 

Nor plead necessity, thou man of blood I ^5?! ^^Y 
Heaven tempers power with mercy — heaven revere 1 

Yet slay the wolf for safety, lamb for food ; 
But shorten misery's pangs, and drop a tear ! 

Ah ! rather turn, and breathe this evening gale. 
Uninjured, and uninjuring Nature's pe^ce. ^ ' 

Come, draw best nectar from the foaming pail. 
Come, pen the fold, and count the flock's increase! 

See pasturing heifers with the bull, who wields 
Yet budding horns, and wounds alone the soil ! 

Or see the panting spaniel try the fields. 

While bursting coveys mock his wanton toil ! 

Now feel the steed with youth's elastic force. 
Spontaneous bound, yet bear thy kind control ; 

Nor mangle all his sinews in the course. 

And fainting, staggering, lash him to the goal ! 

Now sweetly pensive, bending o'er the stream, 
Mark the gay floating myriads, nor molest 

Their sports, their slumbers, but inglorious dream 
Of evil fled, and all creation blest ; 

Or else, beneath the porch, in social joy 
Sit, and approve thy infant's virtuous haste. 

Humanity's sweet tones while all employ 
To lure the wing'd domestics to repast ! 

There smiling see, a fop in swelling state. 
The turkey strut with valour's red pretence ; 

And duck row on, with waddling honest gait. 
And goose mistake solemnity for sense ! 

While one with front erect, in simple pride, 
FuU firmly treads, his consort waits his call ; 

Now deal the copious barley, waft it wide. 

That each may taste the bounty meant for all ! 

Yon bashful songsters with retorted eye 

Pursue the grain, yet wheel contracted flight. 

While he, the bolder sparrow, scorns to fly, 
A son of freedom claiming Nature's right. 

Liberal to him ; yet still the wafted grain. 
Choicest for those of modest worth, dispense. 

And blessing Heaven that wakes their gi^ateful strain. 
Let Heaven's best joy be thine,* benevolence! 

R4. 



36S CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

While flocks soft bleatings echoing high and clear. 
The neigh of steeds responsive o'er the heath. 

Deep lowing, sweeter melt upon thy ear 

Than screams of terror, and the groans of death. 

Yet sounds of woe delight a giant brood : 
Fly then mankind, ye young, ye helpless old ! 

For not their fury, a consuming flood. 

Distinguishes the shepherd, drowns the fold. 

But loosen once thy gripe, avenging law ! 

Eager on man, a nobler chase, they start ; 
Now from a brother's side a dagger draw. 

Now sheath it deeper in a virgin's heart. 

See, as they reach Ambition's purple fruits. 
Their reeking hands in nations' carnage dy'd ! 

No longer bathing in the blood of brutes. 
They swim to empire in a human tide. 

But see him, see the fiend that others stung. 

With scorpion conscience lash'd himself, the last ! 

See festering in the bosom where they sprung. 
The fury passions that laid nature waste ! 

Behold the self-tormentor drag his chains. 

And weary Heaven with many a fruitless groan ! 

By pining fast, by voluntary pains, 

Revenging Nature's cause, he pleads his own. 

Yet prostrate, suppliant to the throne above. 
He calls down Heaven in thunders to pursue 

Heaven's fancied foes — O God of peace and love. 
The voice of thunder is no voice from you ! 

Mistaken mortal ! 'tis that God's decree 

To spare thy own, nor shed another's blood : 

Heaven breathes benevolence to all, to thee ; 
Each being's bliss consummates general good. 

LOVIBOND. 



INSCRIPTION ON A RURAL SEAT. 

O LET me haunt this peaceful shade ; 

Nor let Ambition e'er invade 

The tenants of this leafy bower, 

That shun her paths, and slight her power I 



' tlMSiCAL ENGLISH POETI^r 36§ 

Hither the peaceful halcyon flies ^^^ ^?fe6l* ai^^i'V 
From social meads and open skies; 
Pleas'd by this rill her course to steer. 
And hide her sapphire plumage here. 

The ti'out, bedropt with crimson stains. 
Forsakes the river's proud domains ; 
Forsakes the sun's unwelcome gleam. 
To lurk within tliis humble stream. 

And sure I hear the Naiads say. 

Flow, flow, my stream, this devious way ! 

Tho* lovely-soft thy murmurs are. 

Thy waters lovely, cool, and fair ; 

Flow, gentle stream, nor let the vain 

Thy small unsullied stores disdain ; 

Nor let the pensive sage repine. 

Whose latent course resembles thine, s hen stone. 



THE CHAMELION. 

OFT has it been my lot to mark 
A proud, conceited, talking spark. 
With eyes that hardly serv'd at most 
To guard their master 'gainst a post ; 
Yet round the world the blade has been. 
To see whatever could be seen. 
Returning from his finish'd tour. 
Grown ten times perter than before ; 
Whatever word you chance to drop. 
The travell'd fool your mouth will stop : 
" Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — 
" I've seen — and sure I ought to know."- 
So begs you'd pay a due submission. 
And acquiesce in his decision. 

Two travellers of such a cast. 
As o'er Arabia's wilds they past. 
And on their way, in friendly chat. 
Now talk'd of this, and then of that ; 
Discours'd awhile, mongst other matter. 
Of the Chamelion's form and nature. 
'^ A stranger animal," cries onej 
" Sure never liv'd beneath the sun : 

R5 



3 70 CLASSICAL ENGLISH TOETft Y. 

" A lizard's body lean and long, 

" A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, 

" Its foot with triple claw disjoin'd ; 

" And what a length of tail behind ! 

" How slow its pace ! and then its hue— 

" Who ever saw so fine a blue ?"— 

" Hold there," the other quick replies, 
" 'I'is green, I saw it with these eyes, 
" As late with open mouth it lay, 
" And warm'd it in the sunny ray ; 
" Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd, 
" And saw it eat the air for food."— 

" I've seen it. Sir, as well as you, 
" And must again affirm it blue ; 
''At leisure I the beast surveyed 
" Extended in the cooling shade." - 

" 'Tis green, 'tis green. Sir, I assure ye"— « 
" Green !" cries the other in a fury : 
" Why, Sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes ?" — 
" 'Twere no great loss," the friend replies ; 
" For. if thej'^ always serve you thus, 
" You'll find them but of little use." 

So high at last the contest rose. 
From words they almost came to blows : 
When luckily came by a tlih'd ; 
To him the question they referr'd : 
And begg'd he'd tell them, if he knew, 
Whether the thing was green or blue. 

*' Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother ; 
" The creature's neither one nor t'other. 
" I caught the animal last night, 
" And view'd it o'er by candle-light : 
" I mark'd it well 'twas black as jet — 
" You stare — but Sirs, I've got it yet, 
" And can produce it." — *' Pray, Sir, do ; 
" I'll lay my life the thing is blue." — 
*' And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen 
" The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." — 

'^ W^ell then, at once to ease the doubt," 
Replies the man, " I'll turn him out : 
" And when before your eyes I've set him„ 
" If you don't find him black, I'll eat him.'!. 

He said ; and full before their sight 
Produc'd the beast, and lo !-— 'twas white;. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 37 1 

Both star*d, the man look'd wondrous wise--- 

" My children/' the Chamelion cries, 

(Then first the creature found a tongue) ' 

" You all are right, and all are wrong : 

" When next you talk of what you view, 

" Think others see as well as you: 

'* Nor wonder, if you find that none 

" Prefers your eye-sight to his own." merrick 



THE INSECT RACE. 

OBSERVE the Insect-race — ordain'd to keep 
The lazy sabbath of a half-year's sleep ! 
Entomb'd beneath the filmy web they lie. 
And wait the influence of a kinder sky ; 
When vernal sun-beams pierce their dark retreat. 
The heaving tomb distends with vital heat — 
The fuU-form'd brood, impatient of their cell. 
Start from their trance, and burst their silken shell ! 
Trembling awhile they stand, and scarcely dare 
To launch at once upon the untry'd air — 
At length assur'd they catch the fav'ring gale. 
And leave their sordid spoils, and high in ether sail ! 
Lo ! the bright train, their radiant wings unfold 
With silver fring'd, and freckled o'er with gold ; 
On the gay bosom of some fragrant flow'r 
They idly fluttering live their little hour. 
Their life all pleasure, and their task all play. 
All spring their age, and sunshine all their day ! 
Not so the Child of Sorrow — Wretched Man — 
His course with toil concludes — with pain began 
That high his destiny he might discern 
And in Misfortune's school this lesson learn — 
Pleasure's the portion of the inferior kind. 
But Glory — Virtue — Heaven for Man design'd i 

BARBAULD. 



TO CYNTHIA. 

QUEEN, and huntress, chaste and fair. 

Now the sun is laid to sleep 
Seated in thy silver chair. 

State in wonted manner keep : 
Hesperus entreats thy light. 
Goddess excellently bright. 

R6 



572 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POET&V 

Earth, let not thy envious shade 

Dai'e itself to interpose ; 
Cynthia's shining orb was made 

Heaven to cheer, when day did close ; 
Bless us then wath wished sight. 
Goddess excellently bright. 

Lray thy bow of pearl apart. 

And thy crystal-shining quiver : 
Give unto thy flying hart 

Space to breathe, how short soever : 
Thou that mak'st a day of night, »' 

Goddess excellently bright. b. jonson. 



CHARITY. 



DID sweeter sounds adorn ray flowing tongue. 
Than ever man pronounc'd, or angels sung ; 
Had I all knowledge, human and divine. 
That thought can reach, or science can define ; 
And had I power to give that knowledge birth. 
In all the speeches of the babbling earth ; 
Did Shadrach's zeal my glowing breast inspire. 
To weary tortures, and rejoice in fire ; 
Or had I faith like that which Israel saw. 
When Moses gave them miracles and law : 
Yet, gracious Charity ! indulgent guest. 
Were not thy power exerted in my breast. 
Those speeches would send up unheeded prayer ; 
That scorn of life would be but wild despair ; 
A tymbal's sound were better than my voice : 
My faith were form, my eloquence were noise. 

Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind. 
Softens the high, and rears the abject mind. 
Knows with just reins and gentle hand to guide 
Betwixt vile Shame and arbitrary Pride. 
Not soon provok'd, she easily forgives ; 
And much she suffers, as she much believes. 
Soft Peace she brings wherever she arrives ; 
She builds our quiet, as she forms our lives ; 
Lays the rough paths of peevish Nature even. 
And opens in each heart a little heaven. 

Each other gift, which God on man bestows. 
Its proper bound and due restriction knows ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. S7S 

To one fix'd purpose dedicates its power, 

And, finishing its act, exists no more. 

Thus, in obedience to what Heaven decrees. 

Knowledge shall fail, and prophecy shall cease; 

But lasting Charity's more ample sway. 

Nor bound by time, nor subject to decay. 

In happy triumph shall for ever live. 

And endless good diffuse, and endless praise receive. 

As thro' the artist's intervening glass. 
Our eye observes the distant planets pass, 
A little we discover, but allow 
That more remains unseen than art can show ; 
So, whilst our mind its knowledge would improve, 
(Its feeble eye intent on things above,) 
High as we may, we lift our reason up. 
By Faith directed, and confirm'd by Hope ; 
Yet are we able only to survey 
Dawning of beams, and promises of day. 
Heaven's fuller effluence mocks our dazzled sight ; 
Too great its swiftness, and too strong its light. 

But soon the mediate clouds shall be dispell'd ; 
The sun shall soon be face to face beheld. 
In all his robes, with all his glory on. 
Seated sublime on his meridian throne. 

Then constant Faith and holy Hope shall die. 
One lost in certainty, and one in joy : 
Whilst thou, more happy power, fair Charity, 
Triumphant sister, greatest of the three. 
Thy office and thy nature still the same, 
Lasting thy lamp, and unconsum'd thy flame, 

Shalt still survive 

Shalt stand before the host of Heaven confest. 

For ever blessing, and for ever blest. prior. 



AN IMAGE OF PLEASURE. 



SOLACE of life, my sweet companion lyre! 

On this fair poplar bough I'll hang thee high, 
While the gay fields all soft delights inspire. 

And not one cloud deforms the smiling sky. 



374 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

While whispering gales, that court the leaves and flowers. 
Play thro' thy strings, and gently make them sound, 

Luxurious, I'll dissolve the flowing hours 
In balmy slumbers on the carpet ground. 

But see — what sudden gloom obscures the air I 
What falling showers impetuous change the day ! 

Let's rise, my lyre — Ah Pleasure, false as fair ; 
How faithless are thy charms, how short thy stay ! 

HUGHES. 



DOMESTIC PLEASURES. 

WHEN ev'ning's mellow tints enrich the west. 
And the dim distance cheats the wand'ring eye : 

When Nature's stillness makes the weary blest. 
And the smooth breeze scarce whispers out a sigh : 

From social joys then gladly would I steal. 

From scenes whence gaudy Pleasure proudly flies ; 

In solitude the pow'r of Fancy feel. 

And trace her pleasing visions as they rise : 

Deluding Hope each fond illusion moulds. 
Where Happiness in tempting form is seen ; 

Imagination ev'ry wing unfolds. 
And flutters round the transitory scene. 

" Far from those ranks where Fashion rules the hour, 
" Where Luxury her pampering revels keeps ; 

" Where Envy marks the splendid pride of Pow'r, 
" And pining Discontent in anguish weeps : 

^' My humble mansion decks the lowly vale, 
" Where Health extends her animated smile ; 

*' Where sweet Contentment tells her simple tale, 
" To smooth the cheerful peasant's rugged toil. 

" Oft as the morn renews the tut'ring strain, 
'^ The little linnet from its dam receives ; 

'' And oft as ev'ning tells the wearied swain 
" To ta§f,e the sweet repose that Nature gives : 

" With solitary steps each wood I trace, 

" Where Contemplation stills the lonely way ; 

* Muse on the hours of woe that others pass, 
" And catch the lustre of Contentment's ray. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. S75 

*' And if some mortal sorrows chill'd the time 

" When youth's warm inexperiene'd pleasures glow'd, 

" To shrink from these e'en Pity calls a crime; 
" For ills unfelt her tender tears bestow'd : 

" She feels the lash, that tyranny compels 

" The slave in silent agony to bear ; 
'•' And oft in Mercy's ear each mis'ry tells, 

" That marks the convict's solitary care : 

" She hears the wretch's last convulsive groan, 
" That howls the secret horror of his mind : 

" She lets not Penury complain alone, 

" And hopeless Sorrow owns her soothings kind. 

" But from sucli visionaiy woe I swerve, 

" With happiness each pensive thought to drnwn ; 

" The pleasures of my peaceful home observe, 
" And smile with gratitude on joys my own : 

" Joys that my wedded partner cheerful shares, 
" That makes us spurn the lux'ries of the great ; 

" Joys that are heighten'd by her soothing cares, 
" That gently heal each poison'd wound of Fate. 

** For when pale Sickness wakes each tort'ring fear, 
'' Lest ills unknown the peaceful charm should break, 

'' Oft have I seen the sympathetic tear 

'^ Tremble beneath the smile that deck'd her cheek : — • 

" And when the balmy sweets of health return, 
" To grace the homely board they cheer'd before, 

" With grateful hearts their valu'd worth we learn ; 
" Possess'd of these, how great our little store ! — 

" And, O ye little ones ! whose infant tongues 

^' Have leam'd to lisp the strains Affection taught ; 

'^ To whom the fascinating pow'r belongs, 

" By little arts to chase each pensive thought ; 

" Preserv'd th' untainted heart, the soul sincere, 
" That Piety, and soft Compassion warms : — 

" I would not barter crowns for ties so dear; 

" Compar'd with these, what human treasure charms ? 

*' Come ye, who proudly tread Ambition's height, 
" And grasp the puny fumes that Wealth bestows ; 

" And ye whom pow'r's too pois'ning sweets delight, 
*' Who taste no joy but what ftora aflSuence flows; 



" Resign your pleasures — view that father's care, 
"■ Who bends with fondness o'er his happy child j 

'•' Own that one moment of his bliss to share, 
" Pleas'd ye'd desert your golden projects wild. 

" Ye never felt that genuine delight 

" That animates a parent's glowing breast ; " 

" Your grandest hopes an adverse blast can blight *• : ^ 

" My humblest pleasures happiness has blest. 

''' If on our joys Misfortune's keenest winds 
" Blow angrily, and all her horrors send ; 

" Oh ! what a balm an aged father finds 

" In the sweet soothings of a filial friend ! — 

'' A mother too — whom finer feelings move, 
" Whose softer bosom ev'ry anguish shares, — 

" Calm her, thou source of comfort, filial love- — 
'' Maternal sorrows claim your tend'rest cares. 

" Go on, ye young ones, deck'd with modest worth, 
'' Possess'd of virtue, ev'ry torrent brave : 

^' Be truly great, and those that gave you birth 

" Will meet with calm content the peaceful grave !" 

The charm's dissolv'd — my wand'ring steps I bend 
Where first my fancy drew each flatt'ring line : — 

The chill unhealthy dews of night descend. 
And ev'ry melancholy thought is mine. 

ANON 



THE MANIAC OF VICTORY. 

BUT here comes One that seems to out-rejoice 

All the rejoicing tribe I wild is her eye 

And frantic is her air, and fanciful 

Her sable suit, and round she rapid rolls 

Her greedy eyes upon the spangled street, 

And drinks with greedy gaze the sparkling scene ! 

And, " See," she cries, " how they have grac'd the 

hour 
That gave him to his grave ! hail lovely lamps. 
In honour of that hour a grateful land. 
Hath hung aloft ! — and sure he well deserves 
The tributary splendour — for he fought 
Their battles well — ah ! he was Valour's self— 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 377 

Fierce was the look with which he fac'd the foe ; 

But on his Harriet, when my Hero bent it, 

'Twas so benign ! and beautiful he was— 

And he was young, too young in years to die ! 

'Twas but a little while his wing had thrown 

Its guardian shadow o'er me — ^but 'tis gone — 

Fall'n is my shield, yet see now if I weep— 

A British warrior's widow should not weep— 

Her Hero sleeps in Honour's fragrant l^ed — 

So they all tell me, and I have nobly leam'd 

Their gallant lesson — ^all my tears are gone — 

Bright glory's beam has dried them ev'ry drop ! 

No — no — ^I scorn to weep — high is mine heart ! 

Hot are mine eyes I there's no weak water there ! 

'Tis true I should have joy'd — what mother would not ? 

To have shown him that sweet babe o'er whicli he wept 

When last he kiss'd it — yes he did — he wept ! 

My wanior wept !— as the weak woman's tears 

From off this cheek, where now I none can feel. 

He -kiss'd away — he wet it with his own. 

O ! yes it would — 'twould have been sweet t' have shown 

him 
How his dear lovely boy had grown since he 
Beheld it cradled, and t' have bid it call him 
By the sweet name that I had taught it utter. 
In softest tones, while he was thunder hearing, 
And thunder hurling round him — for his hand 
Would not be idle amid deeds of glory ! 

Yes — glory — ghry — glory is the word 

See how it glitters all along the street !" 
And then she laughs and wildly leaps along 
With tresses all untied. Fair wretch — adieu— 
In mercy — Heaven thy shatter'd peace repair. 

FAWCETT 



HYMN TO THE MORNING. 

PARENT of Day ; whose beauteous beams of light 
Spring from the darksome womb of Night, 
And 'midst their native horrors show 

Like gems adorning of the negro's brow : 

Not Heav'n's fair bow can equal thee. 
In all its gaudy drapeiy ; 



378 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Thou first essay of light, and pledge of day ! 
That usher'st in the sun, and still prepar'st its way. 

Rival of shade, eternal spring pf light ! 

Thou art the genuine source of it : 
From thy bright unexhausted womb. 

The beauteous rays of days and seasons come. 
Thy beauty, ages cannot wrong. 
But spite of time, thou'rt ever young : 

Thou art alone Heav'n's modest virgin light. 

Whose face a veil of blushes hides from human sight 

Like some fair bride thou risest from thy bed. 
And dost around thy lustre spread ; 
Around the universe dispense 

New life to all, and quick'ning influence. 

With gloomy smiles thy rival Night 
Beholds thy glorious dawn of light ; 

Not all the wealth she views in mines below. 

Can match thy brighter beams, or equal lustre sliow. 

At thy "approach. Nature erects her head, 

The smiling universe is glad ; 

The drowsy earth and seas awake. 
And, from thy beams, new life and vigour take : 

When thy more cheerful rays appear, 

Ev'n guilt and women cease to fear ; 
Horror, despair, and all the sons of Night, 
Retire before thy beams, and take their hasty flight. 

To thee the grateful East their altars raise. 

And sing with early hymns thy praise ; 
Thou dost their happy soil bestow. 

Enrich the heavens above, and earth below : 
Thou risest in the fragrant east. 
Like the fair phcenix from her balmy nest : 

No altar of the gods can equal thine. 

The air's thy richest incense, the whole land thy shrine! 

But yet thy fading glories soon decay — 

Thine's but a momentary stay ; 

Too soon thou'rt ravish'd from our sight, flight. 
Bome down the stream of day, and overwhelm'd with 

Thy beams to their own ruin haste. 

They're fram'd too exquisite to last : 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH P6ET*RY. 379 

Thine is a glorious, but a short-liv'd state. 
Pity so fair a birth should yield so soon to fate ! 

Before th' Almighty Artist fram'd the sky. 

Or gave the earth its harmony. 

His first command was for thy light ; 
He view'd the lovely birth, and blessed it ; 

In purple swaddling-bands it struggling lay. 

Not yet maturely bright for day : 
Old Chaos then a cheerful smile put on. 
And, from thy beauteous form, did first presage its own, 

'^ Let there be light !" the great Creator said. 
His word the active child obey'd : 
Night did her teeming womb disclose ; 

And then the blushing mom, its brightest offspring, rose. 
Awhile the Almighty wondering view'd^ 
And then himself pronounc'd it good : 

" With night (said he,) divide th' imperial sway ; 

" Thou my first labour art, and thou shalt bless the day." 

YALDEN. 



THE SHORTNESS OF LIFE, AND UNCERTAINTY OF RICHES. 

WHY dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, 
Or, what is worse, be left by it .?* 
Why dost thou load thyself when thou'rt to fly, 
Oh, man ! ordain'd to die } 

Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high. 
Thou who art under ground to lie } 
Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see. 
For Death, alas I is reaping thee. 

Suppose thou Fortune couldst to tameness bring. 
And clip or pinion her wing ; 
Suppose thou couldst on Fate so far prevail. 
As not to cut off thy entail ; 

Yet Death at all tliat subtilty will laugh ; 

Death will that foolish gard'ner mock. 
Who does a slight and annual plant ingraff 

Upon a lasting stock. 

Thou dost thyself wise and industrious deem ; 
A mighty husband thou wouldst seem; 
Fond man ! like a bought slave^ thou all the while 
Dost but for others sweat and toil. 



380 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Officious fool] that needs must meddling be 
In business that concerns not thee ; 
For when to future years thou extend'st thy cares. 
Thou deal' St in other men's affairs. 

Ev'n aged men, as if they truly were 
Children again, for age prepare ; 
Provisions for long travel they design, 
In the last point of their short line. 

Wisely the ant against poor winter hoards. 
The stock which summer's wealth affords ; 
In grasshoppers, that must at autumn die. 
How vain were such an industry ? 

Of power and honour the deceitful light 
Might half excuse our cheated sight. 
If it of life the whole smal] time would stay. 
And be our sunshine all the day. 

Like lightning that, begot but in a cloud 
(Tho' shining bright, and speaking loud,) 
Whilst it begins, concludes its violent race, 
And where it gilds, it wounds the place* 

Ob, scene of fortune ! which dost fair appear 
Only to men that stand not near : 
Proud Poverty that tinsel brav'ry wears. 
And, like a rainbow, painted tears ! 

Be prudent, and the shore in prospect keep ! 
In a weak boat trust not the deep ; 
Plac'd beneath envy — above envying rise ; 
Pity great men, great things despise. 

The wise example of the heav'nly lark. 

Thy fellow-poet, Cowley ! mark ; 

Above the clouds let thy proud music sound ; 

Thy humble nest build on the ground. cowley. 



THE GOLDFINCHES : AN ELEGY. 

TO you whose groves protect the feather'd choirs. 
Who lend their artless notes a willing ear. 

To you whom pity moves, and taste inspires. 
The Doric sti'ain belongs, O She n stone, heat. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY 381 

Twas gentle Spring, when all the plumy race, 
By Nature taught, in nuptial leagues combine ! 

A Goldfinch joy'd to meet the warm embrace. 
And with her mate in love's delights to join. 

All in a garden, on a currant bush. 

With wondrous art they built their airy seat ; 

In the next orchard Kv'd a friendly thrush. 
Not distant far a wood-lark's soft retreat. 

Here blest with ease, and in each other blest. 

With early songs they wak'd the neighbouring groves. 

Till time matur'd their joys, and crown'd their nest 
With infant pledges of their faithful loves. 

And now what transport glow'd in cither's eye ! 

What equal fondness dealt th' allotted food ! 
What joy each other's likeness to descry. 

And future sonnets in the chirping brood ! 

But, ah ! what earthly happiness can last ? 

How does the fairest purpose often fail } 
A truant school-boy's wantonness could blast 

Their flatt'ring hopes, and leave them both to waiL 

The most ungentle of his tribe was he ; 

No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart ; 
With concord false, and hideous prosody, 

He scrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part. 

On mischief bent, he mark'd with rav'nous eyes. 
Where wrapt in down the callow songsters lay. 

Then rushing, rudely seiz'd the glitt'ring prize, 
And bore it in his impious hands away ! 

But how shall I describe, in numbers rude. 
The pangs for poor Chrysomitris decreed. 

When from her secret stand aghast she view'd, 
The cruel spoiler perpetrate the deed ? 

* O grief of griefs !" with shrieking voice she cried, 

'' What sight is this that I have liv'd to see? 
" O ! that I had in youth's fair season died, 

'^ From love's false joys, and bitter sorrows free. 

^' Was it for this, alas ! with weary bill, 

*' Was it for this 1 pois'd th' unweildy straw ? 

" For this I bore the moss from yonder hill, 

" Nor shunn'd the pond'rous stick along to draw ? 



382 CLASSICAL ENGLIgH ]^12T!l¥. 

^iiWas it for this I pick'd the wool with care, >i 

" Intent with nicer skill our work to crown; 

" For this, with pain, I bent the stubborn hair, 
" And lin'd our cradle with the thistle's down ? 

" Was it for this my freedom I resign'i^. ^^^f?^ 3£^ 
" And ceas'd to rove at large from plain to plain ;^ 

" For this I sat at home whole days cohfin'd, "^ i 

" To bear the scorching heat, and pealing raiti^^**^^ 

•' Was it for this my watchful eyes grow dim ? -'' "■ ^^'^ 
'' For this the roses on my cheek turn pale ? 

^' Pale is my golden plumage, once so trim ! 
" And all ray wonted mirth and spirits fail ! 

^' O plund'rer vile I O more than adders fell ! 

" More raurd'rous than the cat, with prudish face ; 
'' Fiercer than kites in whom the furies dwell, 

" And thievish as the cuckoo's pilf ring race ! 

'' May juicy plums for thee forbear to grow, 
" For thee no flow'r unveil its charming dyes ; 

'^ May birch-trees thrive to work thee sharper woe, ' 
'^ And list'ning starlings mock thy frantic cries I" 

Thus sang the mournful bird her piteous tale, — 
The piteous tale her mournful mate returned ; 

Then side by side they sought the distant vale. 

And there in secret sadness inly mourn'd. jago. 



ELEGY ON SIR WILLIAM JONES. 

TO chase the tenfold gloom, my Jones, was tliine. 
To cheer the Brahmin and to burst his chains. 

To search for latent gems the Sanscreet mine. 
And wake the fervour of her ancient strains. 

For ah ! what pen shall paint with half thy fire 
The power of Music on th' impassion'd soul. 

When the great masters wak'd the Indian lyre. 
And bade the burning song electric roll ? 

The mystic veil that wraps the hallow'd shrine 
Of India's deities 'twas thine to rend — 

With brighter fires — -each radiant altar shines. 
To Nature's awful God those fires ascend 1 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. S8S 

Sound the deep conch— dread Vishnu's pow'r proclaim. 
And heap with fragrant woods the blazing urn ; 

I see sublime Devotion's noblest flame, 
'Midst Superstition's glowing embers bum ! 

'Twas thine with daring wing and eagle eye 
To pierce Antiquity's profoundest gloom. 

To search the dazzling records of the sky. 
And bid the stars the sacred page illume ! 

Nor did the instructive orbs of Heav'n alone 
Absorb thy soul 'mid yon etherial fields. 

To thee the vegetable world was known. 

And all the blooming tribes the garden yields ! 

From the tall cedar on the mountain's brow 
Which the fierce tropic storm in vain assails, 

Down to the humblest shrubs that beauteous blow 
And scent the air of Asia's fragrant vales! 

But talents — fancy — ardent, bold, sublime — 
Unbounded science form'd thy meanest famC; 

Beyond the grasp of death, the bound of time. 
On wings of fire Religion wafts thy name ! 

And long as stars shall shine or planets roll. 
To kindred Virtue shall that name be dear. 

Still shall thy genius charm the aspiring soul. 

And distant ages kindle at thy bier ! Maurice. 



THE WISH. 



CONTENTMENT, parent of delight. 

So much a stranger to our sight. 

Say, goddess, in what happy place 

Mortals behold thy blooming face ; 

Thy gracious aufepices,impart, 

iVnd for thy temple choose my heart. 

They, whom thou deignest to inspire. 

Thy science learn, to bound desire ; 

By happpy alchymy of mind 

They turn to pleasure all they find ; 

They both disdain in outward mien ; i 

The grave aild solemn garb of Spleen ; 

And meretricious arts of dress, i >V 

To feign a joy, and hide distress : 



394 CLASSIGAl, ENGLISH POETRY. 

Unmov'd when the rude tempest blows. 
Without an opiate they repose ; 
And cover'd by your shield, defy 
The whizzing shafts, that round them f?y : 
Nor meddling with the god's affairs, 
Concern themselves with distant cares ; 
But place their bliss in mental rest. 
And feast upon the good possessed. 
Forc'd by soft violence of pray'r. 
The blithesome goddess soothes my carie ; 
I feel the deity inspire, 
. And thus she models my desire. 
Two hundred pounds, half-yearly paid, 
Annuity securely made, 
A farm, some twenty miles from town. 
Small, tight, salubrious, and my own ; 
Two maids that never saw the town, 
A serving-man, not quite a clown ; 
A boy to help to tread the mow. 
And drive, while t'other holds the plough. 
A chief, of temper form'd to please. 
Fit to converse and keep the keys ; 
And better to preserve the peace, 
Commission'd by the name of niece ; 
Witli understanding of a size 
To think their master very wise. 
May Heaven (it's all I wish for) send 
One genial room to treat a friend. 
Where decent cupboard, little plate. 
Display benevolence, not state. 
And may my humble dwelling stand 
Upon some chosen spot of land : 
A pond before, full to the brim. 
Where cows may cool, eind geese may swim 
Behind, a green, like velvet neat. 
Soft to the eye and to the feet ; 
Where od'rous plants in ev'ning fair 
Breathe all around ambrosial air ; 
From Eurus, foe to kitchen ground, 
Fenc'd by a slope with bushes crown'd. 
Fit dwelling for the feather'd throng. 
Who pay their quit-rents with a song ; 
With op'ning views of hill and dale. 
Which sense and fancy too regale, 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH P0ETR4'. SBSf' 

Where the half-cirque, which vision bounds, 
Like amphitheatre surr(:)unds : 
And woods impervious to the breeze, 
Thick phalanx of embodied trees. 
From hills thro' plains in dusk ai-ray 
Extended far, repel the day. 
Here stillness, height, and solemn shade 
Invite, and contemplation aid ; 
Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate 
The dark decrees and will of Fate, 
And dreams beneath the spreading beech 
Inspire, and docile Fancy teach ; 
While soft as breezy breath of wind. 
Impulses rustle thro' the mind : 
Here Dryads, scorning Phoebus' ray. 
While Pan melodious pipes away. 
In raeasur'd motions frisk about. 
Till old Silenus puts them out. 
There see the clover, pea, and bean. 
Vie in variety of green ; 
Fresh pastures speckled o'er with sheep. 
Brown fields their fallow Sabbaths keep. 
Plump Ceres golden tresses wear. 
And poppy top-knots deck her hair. 
And silver streams thro' meadows stray. 
And Naiads on the margin play. 
And lesser Nymphs on side of hills 
From plaything urns pour down the rills. 
Thus shelter'd, free from care and strife, 
May I enjoy a calm thro' life j 
See Faction, safe in low degree. 
As men at land see storms at sea. 
And laugh at miserable elves 
Not kind, so much as to themselves, 
Curs'd with such souls of base alloy. 
As can possess, but not enjoy ; 
Debarr'd the pleasure to impart 
By Av'rice, sphincter of the heart. 
Who wealth, hard-earn'd by guilty cares, 
Bequeath'd untouch'd to thankless heirs. 
May I, with look ungloom'd by guile. 
And wearing Virtue's liv'ry smile. 
Prone the distressed to relieve. 
And little trespasses forgive. fe Jssiiiw w^iii. «** 

S 



38^ CLASSKXAI. ,Elf€y^^H POETiftY. 

With income not in Fortune's pow'r v. ^ 1 1 ] 

And skill to make a busy hourj ; ;T 

With trips to town life to amuse. 

To purchase books, and hear the news^ ' 

To see old friends, brush off the clow^^ij^^ ,™, 

And quicken taste at coming down. ftg 

Unhurt by Sickness' blasting rage, f^^ 

And slowly mellowing into age, , jjjn^ 

When Fate extends its gathering gripe--i 

Fall off like fruit grown fully ripe ; 

Quit a worn being without pain. 

In hope to blossom soon again. pREEN. 



STANZAS WRITTEN AT SEA. ? 

OH ! thou who bidst these ocean streams 
Their primal bounds and limits keep ; 10 
Who lay'st thy temple's starry beams ;, 
Unshaken on the mighty deep ; :,^ saniB 

Conduct us o'er the trackless waste 
That spurns the print of human fiset, i>jv 
But where thy presence may be trac'J,., ;,v 
In every wind and wave we meet 1 4^ g^i ^ 

And as these liquid plains we rove. 
Should stormy winds resistless blov^, rr^ g^J 
O save us from the flash above ! f 

O spare us from the gulph below I ;! r^ 

And in these .soul-appalling hours. 
When death rides high on every wave, 
Assist, Oh ! Lord, our feeble powers, v 
And save, — when thou alone can'st save f^^^i 

And on those plains of early day. 
Where first the star-light was unfurl'd. 
That shed salvation from its ray, 
And splendour o'er a nighted world 

Oh ! shroud us from the scorching beam 
That preys on life's diminished spring, 
From fever's wild delirious dream. 
The tiger's rage, the serpent's sting. 



CLASSIGAL ENGLISH POETRY. 387 

But teach us,— -more than all the rest,-— \^' 
To bow submissive to thy will : ::^ 

In all thy tender mercies blest,— '^ ^^ „ , 
In all thy judgments, patient still ! ^^^^ «> J 

998 Oil 
That thus, life's weary voyage past^ -.^yisnPs 
By favouring gales, or tempests driveiii ,r f 
Our stedfast barks may gain at last Z'} 
Their wish'd-for port — the port in Heaven. 

ANOK. 



A MOTHERS GRAVE. 

To where thy hallowed bones are laid 
Far from the busy haunts of men. 
To converse. Mother, with thy shade, 
I come again ! 

Oh ! I have felt Affliction's wave, 

And with her billows mounted high 
Since last I knelt me on thy grave. 

And heav'd a sigh ! 

When shall I close these weary eyes ? 

When shall my wandering spirit flee— 
Or in this grave, or in the skies. 

Find rest and thee ? 

The meekness of thy mind I need. 

To meet the world's rebuke and scorn : 
O ! Mother, but to copy thee 

Why was I born ? 

Ev'n now I hear thy warning voice. 

That oft has wrung my infant ear— 
Oh I if thy Child can have his choice. 
Spirit appear ! 

Thy gentle accents to my heart 

Shall solace soft, and vigour give. 
To suffer well Affliction's smart, 

W^hile yet I live ! 

Yes— and Religion's holy form 

Well-known, and well-belov'd by thee. 
Should more my wavering heart conform 
To Heav'n's decree ! 

S2 



388 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Peace that the world can never give. 
The vs^orld can never take away — 
Should be my portion, could I live j^^ ^^^ 
Thy virtuous way !' ■ 

And soon the scene shall roll away. 

And soon all Earth-born cares shall cease. 
And I with thee in silent clay ,^'t 

Shall rest in peace I '^^j. 

But not for ever shall the grave ^iiT 

Triumphant boast his power and migbtgi b.aA 
For God shall call us thence to live ^^^; h^r^. 
In endless light ! amphlett- 



SHORTNESS OF LIFE. 

SUNS that set and Moons that wane. 

Rise and are restor'd again ! 

Stars that orient Day subdues. 

Night at her return renews ! 

Herbs and flowers, the beauteous birth 

Of the genial womb of Earth, 

Suffer but a transient death. 

From the Winter's cruel breath ! 

Zephyr speaks — serener skies. 

Warm the glebe, and they arise ! 

We, alas ! Earth's haughty kings. 

We that promise mighty things. 

Losing soon Life's happy prime. 

Droop and fade in Httle time. 

Spring returns, but not our bloom. 

Still 'tis Winter in the tomb ! cowpes. 



THE SPIRIT OF MUSIC. 

From Chindara's warbling fount I come, 

Call'd by that moonlight garland's spell. 
From Chindara's fount my fairy home. 

Where in music mom and night I dwell ; 
WHiere lutes in the air are heard about. 

And voices are singing the whole day long ; 
And every sigh the heart breathes out 

Is turn'd, as it leaved the lips, to songka 5is^roi 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 389 

Hither I come 

From my fairy home. 
And if there's a magic in music's strain, 

I swear by the breath 

Of that moonlight wreath. 
Thy lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 

For mine is the lay that lightly floats. 

And mine are the murmuring dying notes. 

That fall as soft as snow on the sea. 

And melt in the heart as instantly. 

And the passionate strain, that deeply going 

Refines the bosom it trembles thro'. 
As the musk wind over the water blowing 

Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too. 

Mine is the charm whose mystic sway 
The spirits of past delight obey. 
Let but the tuneful talisman sound. 
They come like Genii, hovering round. 
And mine is the gentle sound that bears. 

From soul to soul the wishes of love. 
As a bird that wafts thro' genial airs. 

The cinnamon seed from grove to grove. 

*Tis I that mingle in one sweet measure 
The past, the present, and future of pleasure. 
When memory links the tone that is gone. 

With the blissful tone that's still in the ear. 
And hope from a heavenly note flies on 

To another more heavenly still that is near. 

The warrior's heart when touched by me. 

Can as downy soft and yielding be. 

As his own white plume, that high amid death. 

Thro' the field has shone tho' it moves with a breath. 

And oh ! how the eyes of beauty glisten 

When Music has reach'd her inmost soul. 
Like the silent stars that wink and listen. 
While heaven's eternal melodies roll. 

So, hither I come. 

From my fairy home. 
And if there's a magic in music's strain, 

I swear by the breath 

Of that moonlight wreath. 
Thy lover shall sigh at thy feet again. 

T. MOORE, 

S3 



SQO CLASSICAL ENGLisii poK»jratv^ JO 

:i Slit '18911 1 i^vansdW 
OLD cicELYw'^''^^^^- ^'^ miidm if A 

My cottage is fallen to decay, -%^ f^^j^ 

The tempest blows cold on my head. 
Thro* the ruin the rains find their way. 
And trickle cold tears on my bed : 

I sigh from the night till the mom. 
For, alas ! I am old and forlorn. 

My garden is cover'd with weeds. 

Once so trim, and so usefully neat ; 
There the toad on the aconite feeds 

From a hole in the rotten old seat. 
I sigh, &c. 

With murmurs so sweet on its way ^ ■ ., ,, 

No longer the rivulet roves, * ^^'^ V^'"W 

That made all the meadows so gay. 
And purl'd in the day of our loves. 
I sigh, &c. 

The elm that once shaded our door. 
And flourish'd, and smil'd at the blast. 

Now a sapless old trunk, and no more 
Brings to mem'ry my youth that is past, 
I sigh, &c. 

The sparrows that chirp'd on the spray 
Droop their wings, the poor imps, and are dumb^ 

No more they come fluttering away 
To beg of my bounty a crumb. 
I sigh, &c. 

No more to my labours I rise. 

And work on the hill and the plain. 
Morn blushes in vain on the skies. 

And the sun gilds my cottage in vain. 
I sigh, &c. 

Like a spectre I wander at night. 

And fear not the horrors of shade. 
For what can old Cicely affright, 

Who sighs for the shroud and the spade. 
I sigh, &c. 



Whenever I hear the lorn knell. 

All solemn for one that is gone, 
I long to bid life a farewell, 

And grieve that it is not my dwil^ 5!'3^;,^!;Jlas^M 
I sigh, &c; 

Forsaken I sit with a sigh 

On the crazy old bench at the door. 

And oft, in my sorrow, I cry, 
" Thou wilt bear thy poor master no more." 
I sigh, &c. 

Good Corin is laid in the ground. 

To Cicely once tender and kind. 
The graves too, my children surround. 

They are gone — and have left me behind. 
I sigh, &c. 

With life while this bosom shall beat, 

Their memories shall ever be dear, 
Their names I will often repeat, 

And crawl to their turf with a tear, 
I sigh, &c. 

And yet to their graves when I go, 

In silence and sorrow alone, 
A comfort I feel in my woe. 

As I read their sweet praise on the stone. 
I sigh, &c. 

WOLCOTT. 



HYMN TO THE BRAVE. 

HOW sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
By all their country's wishes blest I ._.* fnom oH 
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, w BaA. 
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, >0ff| u^qI,-? 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod ^'* *^ - V 

Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 
By Fairy hands their knell is rung. 
By forms unseen their dirge is sung ;3its@qg esMIJ 
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray^^^ « -^ ' - 
To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; 
And freedom shall awhile repair. 
To dwell a weeping hermit there. collins, 

S4 



3g$t CLASSICAL ENGLISH I^CXETSY. 



13 21 



EWSTLE TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, MtBrf'? oB 

,1 89ob a A 

ON HIS LEAVING ETON SCHOOL. hff oMtiC' 

SINCE now a nobler scene awakes thy care, p r^H-jr 

Since manhood dawning^ to fair Granta's tow'rti ,^*^^ 

Where once in life's gay spring I lov'd to roam^^'jf^^^'^!^ 

Invites thy willing steps: accept dear youth, ~ ^'" ^* 

This parting strain ; accept the fervent pray'r 

Of him who loves thee with a passion pure 

As ever friendship dropped in human heart ; 

I'he prayer, that he who guides the hand of youth 

Thro' all the puzzled and perplexed round 

Of life's meand'ring path, upon thy head 

May shower down every blessing, every joy. 

Which health, which virtue, and which fame can give! 

Yet think not I will deign to flatter thee : 
Shall he, the guardian of thy faith and truth. 
The guide, the pilot of thy tender years. 
Teach thy young heart to feel a spurious glow 
At undeserved praise ? Perish the slave 
Whose venal breath in youth's unpraotis'd ear 
Pours poison'd flattery, and coiTupts the soul 
With vain conceit; whose base ungenerous art 
Fawns on the vice, which some with honest hand 
Have torn for ever from the bleeding breast 

Say, gentle youth, remember'st thou the day 
When o'er thy tender shoulders first I hung 
The golden lyre, and taught thy trembling hand 
To touch th' accordant strings ? From that blest hour 
I've seen thee panting up the hill of fame ; 
Thy little heart beat nign with honest praise. 
Thy cheek was flush'd, and oft thy sparkhng eye 
Shot flames of young ambition. Never quench 
That generous ardour in thy virtuous breast. 
Sweet is the concord of harmonious sounds. 
When the soft lute, or pealing organ strikes 
The well-attemper'd ear ; sweet is the breath 
Of nonest love, when nymph and gentle swain 
Waft sighs alternate to each other's heart: 
But not the concord of harmonious sounds. 
When the soft lute or pealing organ strikes 
The well-attemper'd ear ; nor the sweet breath 
or honest love, when nymph and gentle swain 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. S93 

Waft sighs alternate to each other's heart. 
So charm with ravishment the raptur'd sense. 
As does the voice of well-deserv'd report 
Strike with sweet melody the conscious soul. 

On ev'ry object thro' the giddy world ,0^1 ^01^S^\ 
Which fashion to the dazzled eye presents, ^ r^ 

Presh is the gloss of newness ; look, dear youth, :/ 

O look, but not admire: O let not these I 

Raise from thy noble heart the fair records ( 

Which youth and education planted there : 
Let not affection's full impetuous tide. 
Which riots in thy generous breast, be check'd 
By selfish cai-es ; nor let the idle jeers 
Of laughing fools make thee forget thyself. 
When didst thou hear a tender tale of woe. 
And feel thy heart at rest? Have I not seen 
In thy swoln eye the tear of sympathy. 
The milk of human kindness ? When didst thou 
With envy rankling hear a rival prais'd ? 
When didst thou slight the wretched? when despise 
The modest humble suit of poverty ? 
These virtues still be thine ; nor ever learn 
To look with cold eye on the charities 
Of brother, or of parents ; think on those 
Whose anxious care thro' childhood's slippery path 
Sustain'd thy feeble steps ; whose every wish 
Is wafted still to thee ; remember those 
Even in thy heart while memory holds her seat. 
And oft as to thy mind thou shalt recall 
The sweet companions of thy earliest years. 
Mates of thy sport, and rivals of thy strife 
Of every generous art, remember me. ROBERTS* 



JOHN BARLEYCORN. 

THERE went three kings into the east. 
Three kings both great and high. 

And they have sworn a solemn oath 
John Barleycorn should die. 

They took a plough and plough'd him down, 

Put clods upon his head. 
And they have sworn a solemn oath, 

John Barleycorn was dead. 

S5 



SQ4 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRy; 

But the cheerful Spring came kindly oil, :' 

And show'rs began to fall, 
John Barleycorn got up again 

And sore surprised them all ! 

The sultry suns of Summer came. 

And he grew thick and strong ; 
His head well arm'd with pointed spears. 

That no one should him wrong ; 

The sober Autumn enter'd mild, 

When he grew wan and pale. 
His bending joints, and drooping head, 

Show'd he began to fail ; 

His colour sicken'd more and more. 

He faded into age. 
And their his enemies began 

To show their deadly rage ; 

They took a weapon, long and shai'p. 

And cut him by the knee. 
They ty'd him fast upon a cart 

Like a rogue for forgery ; 

They laid him down upon his back. 

And cudgeird him full sore. 
They hung him up before the storm. 

And turn'd him o'er and o'er ; 

They filled up a darksome pit 

With water to the brim. 
They heaved in .John Barleycorn, 

There let him sink or swim ; 

They laid him out upon the floor 

To work him farther woe. 
And still, as signs of life appear'd. 

They toss'd him to and fro ; 

They wasted o'er a scorching flame 

The marrow of his bones. 
But a Miller used him worst of all 

For he crush'd him between two stones ; 

And they took his very heart's blood ^^ 

And drank it round and round, ^ ..- ^ / 

And still the more and more they drank, r^^ j^.^^^ 
Their joy did more abound ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH PQETRY.^ SQS 

John Barleycorn was a hero bold, uh aril ^ . 

Of noble enterprise, '^ 

For if you do but taste his blood 

'Twill make your courage rise ; . . 

'Twill make a man forget his woe, r^i'??? «=,^\T 

'Twill heighten all his joy, 
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing 

Tho' the tear were in her eye — ^j.^ ^ ,,^ . 

Then let us toast John Barleycorn, 

Each man a glass in hand. 
And may his great posterity 

Ne'er fail in Old Scotland ! burns. 



AGAINST INDOLENCE. 

IN Frolic's hour, ere serious thought had birth. 
There was a time, my deal* Comwallis, when 
The Muse would take me on her airy wing 
And waft to views romantic ; there present 
Some motley vision, shade and sun ; the cliff 
O'erhanging, sparkling brooks, and ruins gray ; 
Bade me meanders trace, and catch the form 
Of various clouds, and rainbows learn to paint. «,. 

Sometimes Ambition, brushing by, would twitch 
My mantle, and with winning look sublime. 
Allure to follow. What tho' steep the track ? 
Her mountain's top would overpay, when climb'd, 
The scaler's toil ; her temple there was fine. 
And lovely thence the prospects. She could tell 
Where laurels grew, whence many a wreath antique ; 
But more advis'd to shun the barren twig, 
(What is immortal verdure without fruit?) 
And woo some thriving art : her numerous mines 
Were open to the searcher's skill and pains. 

Caught by th' harangue, heart beat, and flutt'ring pulse 
Sounded irregular marches to be gone — . .^ I 
What, pause a moment when Ambition calls? ^ ' 
No, the blood gallops to the distant goal, " ?^/'^ 

And throbs to reach it Let the lame sit still. 
When Fortune gentle, at th' hill's verge extreme, '"'' 
Array'd in decent garb, but somewhat thin, 

S 6 



396 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Smiling approach'd; and what occasion, ask'd, „ 

Of climbing : She, already provident, '"^^ ^^ 

Had cater'd well, if stomach could digest ° ^{!1 

Her viands, and a palate not too nice : t^^. 

Unfit, she said, for perilous attempt ; 

That manly limb requir'd, and sinew tough : ' 

She took, and laid me in a vale remote, s .r - 'fi 

Amid the gloomy scene of fir and yew, ^ "* ^^^"^^ ^ I, 

On poppy beds, where Morpheus strew'd the gTouhd: 

Obscurity her curtain round me drew. 

And syren Sloth a dull quietus sung. ^ . 

Sithence no fairy lights, no quick'ning ray, - 
No stir of pulse, nor objects to entice 
Abroad the spirits : but the cloister'd heart 
Sits squat at home, like pagod in a niche 
Obscure, or grandees with nod- watching eye. 
And folded arms, in presence of the throne, 
Turk, or Indostan. — Cities, forums, courts. 
And prating sanhedrims, and drumming wars, 
Affect no more than stories told to bed 
Lethargic, which at intervals the sick 
Hears and forgets, and wakes to doze again. 
Instead of converse and variety. 
The same trite round, the same stale silent scene ; 
Such are thy comforts, blessed Solitude ! — 
But Innocence is there, but Peace all kind. 
And simple Quiet, with her downy couch. 
Meads lowing, tune of birds and lapse of streams. 
And saunter with a book, and warbling Muse 
In praise of hawthorns-— Life's whole business this . 
Is to bask i' th' sun ? if so, a snail 
Were happj'^ crawling on a southern wall. 

Why sits Content upon a cottage sill 
At eventide, and blesses the coarse meal 
In sooty corner ? why sweet slumber wait 
Th' hard pallet } Not because from haunt remote 
Sequester'd in a dingle's bushy lap : 
'Tis labour sav'ry makes the peasant's fare, 
And works out his repose : for Ease must ask 
The leave of Diligence to be enjoy'd. 

Oh ! listen not to that enchantress Ease 
With seeming smile ; her palatable cup 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 3^7 

By Standing grows insipid : and beware J 

The bottom, for there's poison in the lees. ^ 

What health impair'd, and crowds inactive mairn'd ! J 
What daily martyrs to her sluggish cause ! 
Less strict devoir the Russ and Persian claim 
Despotic ; and as subjects long inur'd 
To servile burden gi'ow supine and tame. 
So fares it with our sov'reign and her train. 

What tho' with lure fallacious she pretend 
From worldly bondage to set free, what gain 
Her votaries ? What avails from iron chains 
Exempt^ if rosy fetters bind us fast ? 

Bestir, and answer your creation's end. 
Think we that man, with vig'rous pow'r endow'd 
And room to stretch, was destin'd to sit still ? 
Sluggards are Nature's rebels, slight her laws, 
Nor live up to the terms on which they hold 
Their vital lease. Laborious terms and hard ; 
But such the tenure of our earthly state ! 
Riches and fame are Industry's reward ; 
The nimble runner courses Fortune down. 
And then he banquets, for she feeds the bold. 

Think what you owe your country, what yourself. 
If splendour charm not, yet avoid the scom 
That treads on lowly stations. Think of some 
Assiduous booby mounting o'er your head. 
And thence with saucy grandeur looking down ; 
Think of (Reflection's stab !) the pitying friend 
With shoulder shrugg'd and sorry. Think that Time 
Has golden minutes, if discreetly seiz'd : 
And if some sad example, indolent. 
To warn and scare be wanting — ^think of me. 

SNEYD DAVIES. 



THE MAN OF ROSS. 



ALL our praises why should lords engross ? 

Rise, honest Muse ! and sing the Man of Ross : 
Pleas'd Vaga echoes thro* her winding bounds. 
And rapid Severn hoarse applause resounds. 
Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow? 
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow ? 



S98 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Not to the skies in useless columns tost, a* fr'f 

Or in proud falls magnificently lost, ^^ ^^^ 

But clear and artless, pouring thro' the plain 
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain. 
Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows ? 
Whose seats the weary traveller repose ? 
Who taught that heaven-directed spire to rise? 
" The Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies. 
Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread ! 
The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread : 
He feeds yon alms-house, neat, but void of state. 
Where Age and Want sit smiling at the gate ; 
Him portioned maids, apprentic'd orphans blest, 
The young who labour, and the old who rest. 
Is any sick ? The Man of Ross relieves. 
Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives. 
Is there a variance ? Enter but his door, 
Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more. 
Despairing quacks with curses fled the place, 
And vile attorneys, now a useless race. 
Thrice happy man ! enabled to pursue 
What all so wish, but want the power to do ! 
Oh say, what sums that gen'rous hand supply ? 
What mines, to swell that boundless charity ? 

Of debts and taxes, wife and children clear. 
This man possess'd — five hundred pounds a year. 
Blush, Grandeur, blush ! proud Courts, withdraw your 

blaze! 
Ye little stars ! hide your diminish'd rays. 

And what ! no monument, inscription, stone ? 
His race, his form, his name almost unknown ? 

Who builds a church to God, and not to Fame, 
Will never mark the marble with his name : 
Go search it there, where to be bom and die. 
Of rich and poor makes all the history ; 
Enough, that Virtue fiil'd the space between ; 
Prov'd, by the ends of being, to have been. pope. 



TRUE VALUE OF LIFE. 



AH ! when did Wisdom covet length of days. 
Or seek its bliss in pleasure, wealth, or praise ? 



(H^ASSICAL ENGLISH POiJTRY. BS9 

No; — Wisdom views with an indifferent eye, 
All finite joys — all blessings born to die ! ; 

The Soul on earth is an immortal guest, *: 

Compell'd to starve at an unreal feast, ' ''^^l 

A spark which upward tends by Nature's force; ??^^lJ 
A stream diverted from its parent source ; Bi&Ah 

A drop dissever'd from the boundless sea ; ^'^ ^*5 *^ 

A moment parted from Eternity ; ' ] 

A pilgrim panting for the rest to come ; "': 

An exile anxious for its native home ! hannah more. 



HYPJN TO ADVERSITY. 

DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power 

Thou tamer of the human breast. 
Whose iron scourge and tort'ring hour, 

The bad aifright, afflict the best ! 
Bound in thy adamantine chain. 
The proud are taught to taste of pain. 
And purple tyrants vainly groan 
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone. ^ 

When first thy sire to send on earth 

Virtue, his darling child, design'd. 
To thee he gave the heav'nly birth. 

And bade thee form her infant mind. 
Stern rugged nurse ! thy rigid lore 
With patience many a year she bore ; 
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know. 
And from her own, she learn'd to melt at others' woe, 

Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fiy 

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood. 
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy, 

And leave us leisure to be good. 
Light they disperse, and with them go 
The summer friend, the flatt'ring foe ! 
By vain Prosperity receiv'd. 
To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd. 

Wisdom, in sable garb array'd, 

Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound. 

And Melancholy, silent maid, 
'With leaden eye, that loves the ground. 



400 • CLASSICAL ENGLISH POE-Ml^* 

Still on thy solemn steps attend ; ? 8^1 

Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend, «>^ 

With Justice, to herself severe. 
And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear. 

Oh ! gently on thy suppliant's head, 3K!o8 

Dread goddess, lay thy chast'ning handl^'''"^^-^ 
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad, '-[ 

Nor circled with the vengeful band 
(As by the impious thou art seen) 
With thundering voice, and threat'ning mien. 
With screaming Horror's funeral cry. 
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty. 

Thy form benign, oh Goddess, wear 

Thy milder influence impart ; 
Thy philosophic train be there. 

To soften, not to wound my heart. 
The gen'rous spark extinct revive, 
Teach me to love and to forgive. 
Exact my own defects to scan. 
What others are to feel, and know myself a man. 



GRAY. 



THE HARE AND TORTOISE, 
A Fable. 

GENIUS, blest term, of meaning wide. 
For sure no terra so misapply'd. 
How many bear thy sacred name. 
That never felt a real flame I 
Proud of the specious appellation. 
Thus fools have christen'd Inclination 

But yet suppose a genius true. 
Exempli gratia, me or you ; 
Whate'er he tries with due attention, 
Rarely escapes his apprehension ; 
Surmounting ev'ry opposition. 
You'd swear he learnt by intuition. 
Should he rely alone on parts. 
And study therefore but by starts. 
Sure of success whene'er he tries. 
Should he forego the means to rise ? 

Suppose your watch a Graham make. 
Gold, if you will, for value's sake ; 



^.?' 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETIEia^ 401 

Its springs within in order due, " iliJ«S 

No watch, when going, goes so true; 
If ne'er wound up with proper care. 
What service is it in the M^ear ? 

Some genial spark of Phoebus' rays. 
Perhaps within your bosom plays : 

how the purer rays aspire. 
If Application fans the fire ! 
Without it Genius vainly tries, 
Howe'er sometimes it seems to rise : 
Nay, Application will prevail, 
W^hen braggart parts and Genius fail ? 
And now to lay my proof before ye, 

1 here present you with a story. 

Ill days of yore, when Time was young, 
When birds convers'd as well as sung, 
When use of speech was not confin'd 
Merely to brutes of human kind, 
A forward Hare, of swiftness vain. 
The genius of the neighb'ring plain. 
Would oft deride the drudging crowd : 
For geniuses are ever proud. 
He'd boast, his flight 'twere vain to follow. 
For dog and horse he'd beat them hollow ; 
Nay, if he put forth all his strength, 
Outstrip his brethren half a length. 

A tortoise heard his vain oration. 
And vented thus his indignation : 
" Oh Puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace, 
" When I defy thee to the race. 
'* Come, 'tis a match, nay, no denial, 
" I'll lay my shell upon the trial." 
'Twas done and done, all fair, a bet. 
Judges prepar'd, and distance set. 

The scamp'ring Hare outstript the wind, 
The creeping Tortoise lagg'd behind. 
And scarce had pass'd a single pole, 
W^hen Puss had almost reach'd the goal. 
" Friend Tortoise," quoth the jeering Hare, 
" Your burden's more than you can bear, 
" To help your speed it were as well 
" That I should ease you of your shell: 



402 CLASSICAL ENGLISH PaETRY. 

" Jog on a little faster, pr'jrthee, 

*' I'll take a nap, and then be with thee." 

So said, so done, and safely sure. 

For say, what conquest more secure ? 

Whene'er he walk'd (that's all that's in it) 

He could o'ertake him in a minute. 

' The tortoise heai'd his taunting jeer. 
But still resolv'd to persevere. 
Still di'awl'd along, as who should say, 
I'll win, like Fabius, by delay ; 
On to the goal securely crept. 
While Puss unknowing soundly slept. 

The bets were won, the Hare awoke, 
. When thus the victor Tortoise spoke : 
" Puss, tho' I own thy quicker parts, 
" Things are not always done by starts ; 
" You may deride my awkward pace, 
"But slow and steady wins the race." lloybu 



THE CREATOR. 

THESE, as they change. Almighty Father, these 
Are but the varied God. The rolling year 
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring 
Thy beauty walks. Thy tenderness and love 
Wide flush the fields : the soft'ning air is bakn. 
Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; 
And every sense and every heart is joy. 
Then comes thy glory in the summer months. 
With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun 
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year ; 
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; 
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve. 
By brooks and groves, in hollow whispering gales. 
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd ; 
And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 
In Winter, awful Thou ! with clouds and storms 
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roU'd, 
Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing 
Riding sublime, Thou bid'st the world adore. 
And humblest nature with thy northern blast 

Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine. 
Deep-felt, in these appear ! a simple train ; - 



Yet so delightful mix'd/ with such kind art, 
Such beauty and beneficence combined ; 
Shade, unperceiv'd, so soft'ning into shade ; ^m oK 
And ail so forming an haraionious whole, " *1 
That as they still succeed, they ravish still. 
But wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze, 
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand 
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 
Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming thence. 
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring ; 
FHngs from the sun direct the flaming day ; 
Feeds every creature ; hurls the tempest forth ; 
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves. 
With transport touches all the springs of life. 

Nature, attend ! join every living soul. 
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky. 
In adoration join, and ardent raise 
One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales ! 
Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes ; 
Oh talk of Him in solitary glooms ! 
Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely- waving pine 
FiUs the brown shade with a religious awe. 
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar. 
Who shake th' astonish'd world, hft high to Heaven 
The impetuous song, and say from whom ye rage. 
His praise, ye brooks, attune ; ye trembling rills ; 
And let me catch it as I muse along. 
Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound ; 
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze 
Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, 
A secret world of wonders in thyself, 
Sound his stupendous praise, whose greater voice 
Or bids you roar, or bids your roaring fall. 
Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers. 
In mingled clouds, to Him, whose sun exalts, 
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. 
Ye forests, bend ; ye harvests, wave to Him ; 
Breathe your still gong into the reaper's hearl^ 
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. 
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep. 
Unconscious lies, eifuse your mildest beams, 
Ye constellations, while your angels strike. 
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. 
Great source of day, best image here below 



404 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide. 

From world to world, the vital ocean round. 

On nature write, with every beam. His praise. 

The thunder rolls : be hush'd the prostrate world, 

While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. 

Bleat out afresh, ye hills ; ye mossy rocks, 

Retain the sound ; the broad responsive low. 

Ye valleys raise ; for the Great Shepherd reigns, 

And His unsufFering kingdom yet will come. 

Ye woodlands all, awake ! a boundless song 

Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day. 

Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep. 

Sweetest of birds, sweet Philomela, charm 

The listening shades, and teach the night His praise. 

Ye chief for whom the whole creation smiles. 

At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all. 

Crown the great hymn ! in swarming cities vas^ 

Assembled men to the deep organ join 

The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear, ':' 

At solemn pauses, through the swelling base ; '^ 

And, as each mingling flame increases each, 

In one united ardour rise to heaven. 

Or if you rather choose the rural shade. 

And find a fane in every sacred grove ; 

There let the shepherd's lute, the virgin's lay. 

The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, 

Stiil sing the God of Seasons, as they roll. 

For me, when I forget the darling theme. 

Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray i i . 

Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams. 

Or Winter rises in the blackening east. 

Be my tongue mute, my Fancy paint no more, 

And dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! 

Should fate command me to the farthest verge 
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes. 
Rivers unknown to song, where first the sun 
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
Flames on th' Atlantic isles, 'tis nought to rae ; 
Since God is ever present, ever felt. 
In the void waste, as in the city full ! 
And where He vital breathes there must be joy. 
When ev'n at last the solemn hour shall come. 
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 4 
I cheerful will obey ; there with new powers 



C L ASS tCAL ENGLIS H PaST R Y. 405 

WiU rising wonders sing. I cannot go ^o^gs-i:^ ^itf 'iO 
Where Universal Love not smiles around,,^ hH,w mo%% 
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns; isn nO 

From seeming evil still educing good, [i^ .ji/j; 

And better thence again, and better still, j/ 

In infinite progression. But I lose .^jlE 

Myself in Him, in Light Ineffable ; rJBiali 

Come then, expressive silence ! muse His praise J", t :*Y 

THOMSO>il 

ODE 
ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE. 

YE distant spires, ye antique towers. 

That crown the wat'ry glade. 
Where grateful Science still adores 

Her Henry's holy shade ; 
And ye, that from the stately brow 
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below 

Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, ; 

Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers aiiiong^ " 
Wanders the hoary Thames along 

His silver- winding way : . 

Ah happy hills, ah pleasing shade. 

Ah fields belov'd in vain. 
Where once my careless childhood stray'd, 

A stranger yet to pain ! 
I feel the gales that from ye blow, 
A momentary bliss bestow. 

As waving fresh their gladsome wing. 
My weary soul they seem to soothe. 
And, redolent of joy and youth, 

To breathe a second spring. 

Say, Father Thames, (for thou hast seen 

Full many a sprightly race. 
Disporting on thy margent green. 

The paths of Pleasure trace,) 
Who foremost now delight to cleave 
W^ith pliant arm thy glassy wave ? 

The captive linnet which inthrall ? ,•> 

What idle progeny succeed 
To chase the ^rolling circle's speed, »- I 

Or urge the flying ball ? ^^^ ""^ 



406 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

While some on earnest business bent, ■,. 

Their, murm'ring labours ply I 
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraiiit oT 

To sweeten liberty ; .A 

Some bold adventurers disdain sriT 

The limits of their little reign, ^ixA 

And xmknown regions dare descry: 7 

Still as they run they look behind, :/ 
They hear a voice in every wind. 

And snatch a fearful joy. 

Gay hope is their's by Fancy fed. 

Less pleasing, when possest ; 
The tear forgot as soon as shed. 

The sunshine of the breast ; 
Their's buxom Health, of rosy hue. 
Wild Wit, Invention ever new. 

And lively Cheer of Vigour bom ; 
The thoughtless day, the easy night. 
The spirits pure, the slumbers light. 

That fly th' approach of morn. 

Alas! regardless of their doom. 

The little victims play ! 
No sense have they of ills to come. 

No care beyond to-day : 
Yet see how all around them wait 
The ministers of human fate, 

And black Misfortune's baleful train ! 
Ah, show them where in ambush stand. 
To seize their prey, the murd'rous band I 

Ah ! tell them, they are men. 

These shall the fury Passions tear. 

The vultures of the mind. 
Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, 

And Shame that skulks behind ; 
Or pining Love shall waste their youth; 
Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth. 

That inly gnaws the secret heart. 
And Envy wan, and faded Care, »v5 j £ - 

Grim-visag'd comfortless Despair, 'd&ahha 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 



' #f 



Ambition this shall tempt to rise. 

Then hurl the wretch from high. 
To bitter Scorn a sacrifice. 

And grinning Infamy. 
The stings of Falsehood those shall tiy. 
And hard Unkindness* altered eye. 

That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow ; 
And keen Remorse, with blood defil'd. 
And moody Madness laughing wild 

Amid severest woe. 

Lo ! in the vale of years beneath 

A grisly troop ai'e seen. 
The painful family of Death, 

More hideous than their queen : 
This ra-cks the joints, this fires the veins. 
That every labouring sinew strains. 

Those in the deeper vitals rage : 
Lo ! Poverty, to fill the band. 
That numbs the soul with icy hand. 

And slow-consuming Age. 

To each his suff'rings : all are men, 

Condemn'd alike to groan ; 
The tender for another's pain, 

Th' unfeeling for his own. 
Yet, ah ! why should they know their fate ? 
Since sorrow never comes too late. 

And happiness too swiftly flies : 
Thought would destroy their paradise : 
No more ; where ignorance is bliss, 

'Tis folly to be wise. gray. 



THE BALLOON. 

JOURNEYING on high the silken castle glides 

Bright as a meteor thro' the azure tides. 

O'er towns, and tow'rs, and temples winds its way. 

Or mounts sublime, and gilds the vault of day! 

Silent with upturn'd eye unbreathing crowds 

Pursue the floating wonder to the clouds, 

And flush'd with transport, or benumb'd with fear, 

Watch as it rises the duninish'd sphere— 



4CN^| CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETBrlt. 

Now less and less— and now a speck is seen! 

And now the fleeting rack intrudes between I 

The calm philosopher in ether sails, ^ '3 

Views broader stars and breathes in purer gales, ■•' 

Sees like a map in many a waving line, 

Round Earth's blue plains her lucid waters shine. 

Sees at his feet the forked lightnings glow. 

And hears the harmless thunders roar below! dabwik. 



THE YOUTH AND THE PHILOSOPHER. 



A GRECIAN Youth, of talents rare. 

Whom Plato's philosophic care 

Had form'd for Virtue's nobler view. 

By precept and example too. 

Would ofteii boast his matchless skill. 

To curb the steed and guide the wheel ; 

And as he pass'd the gazing throng. 

With graceful ease, and smack'd the thong. 

The idiot wonder they express'd 

Was praise and transport to his breast, ^m^^YJ 

At length, quite vain, he needs must show 
His master what his art could do : 
And bade his slaves the chariot lead 
To Academus' sacred shade. 
The trembling grove confess'd its fright. 
The wood-nymphs started at the sight. 
The Muses dropt the learned lyre. 
And to their inmost shades retire ! 

Howe'er, the you,th with forward air 
Bows to the sage, and mounts the car; 
The lash resounds, the coursers spring, 
The chariot marks the rolling ring ; 
And gath'ring crowds, with eager eyeg, 
And shouts, pursue him as he flies. 

Triumphant to the goal return'd. 
With nobler thirst his bosom bum'd ; 
And now along th* indented plain. 
The self-same track he marks again , 
Pursues with care the nice design^ ,^^^,u^^. 
Nor ever deviates from the Ime. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRYi^- 40^^ 

Amazement seiz'd the circling crow<J'^^^^^^ mv .. 
The youths with emulation glow'd ; 
Ev'n bearded sages hail'd the boy, 
And all, but Plato, gaz'd with joy ; 
For he, deep-judging sage, beheld 
With pain the triumphs of the field ; 
And when the charioteer drew nigh. 
And, flush'd with hope, had caught his eye, 
" Alas ! unhappy youth I" he cry'd, 
" Expect no praise from me," and sigh'd ; . ^ 
" With indignation I survey 
" Such skill and judgment thrown away; 
*' The time profusely squander'd there 
" On vulgar arts beneath thy care, 
" If well employ 'd, at less expense 
" Had taught thee honour, virtue, sense ; 
^••And rais'd thee from a coachman's fate, 
" To govern men, and guide the state." 

WHITEHEAD. 



ON TIME. 



FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race, 

Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours. 
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace. 

And glut thyself with what thy womb devovu'*,/ 
Which is no more than what is false and vain, 
"" And merely mortal dross ; 
So little is our loss. 
So Httle is thy gain. 

For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd. 
And last of all thy greedy self consum'd. 
Then long eternity shall greet our bliss 
With an individual kiss ; 
And joy shall overtake us as a flood. 
When every thing that is sincerely good. 
And perfectly divine, 

With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever siiine. 
About the supreme throne 
Of him, to whose happy-making sight alone. 
When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb. 

Then all this earthly grossness quit, 

Attir'd with stars, we shall for ever sit, 
Triumpliing over Death, and Chance, and Thee^ O Time ! 

MILTON. 

T 



^ ^0 (:L A^$J(C^L .E^^^ISH POETRY. 

HO oj lubJfitt ■ 

%yRITTEN IN SICKNESS. , diyrf Ii3fi3 

SWEET as the fragrant breath of genial May, 
Come, fair Hygeia, goddess heav'nly-born, 

More lovely than the sun's returning ray. 
To northern regions, at the half-year's morn. 

Where shall I seek thee ? in the wholesome grot, 
Where Temperance her scanty meal enjoys ? 

Or Peace (Contented with her humble lot. 

Beneath her thatch th' inclement blast defies ? 

Swept from each flow'r that sips the morning dew. 
Thy wing besprinkles all the scenes around ; 

W^here'er thou fly'st the blossoms blush anew. 
And purple vi'lets paint the hallow'd ground, 

Thy presence renovated Nature shows. 

By thee each shrub with varied hue is dy'd, , „,,,. 
Each tulip with redoubled lustre glows, T^ y|\; 

And all creation smiles with flow'ry pride. ' < 

But in tliy absence joy is felt no more. 

The landscape wither'd e'en in spring appears. 

The morn low'rs om'nous o'er the dusky shore. 
And ev'ning sun sets half extinct in tears. 

Kuthless disease ascends, when thou art gone, 
From the dark regions of th' abyss below. 

With Pestilence, the guardian of her throne. 
Breathing contagion from the realms of woe. 

In vain her citron groves Italia boasts. 
Or Po the balsam of his weeping trees ; 

In vain Arabia's aromatic coasts 

Tincture the pinions of the passing breeze. 

No wholesome scents impregn the western gale. 
But noxious stench exhal'd by scorching heat. 

Where gasping swains the pois'nous air inhale 
That once diffus'd a medicinal sweet. 

Me, abject me, with pale disease oppress'd. 
Heal, with the balm of thy prolific breath, ^ 

Rekindle life within ray clay-cold breast, q r> 

And shield my youth from canker-wornas of tleath. 



GtASSlCAL ENGLISH POETRY. 4fl 

Then on the verdant turf, thy fav'rite shrine, 

Restor'd to thee a votary I'll come. 
Grateful to offer to thy pow'r divine 

Each herb that grovs^s round iEsculapius' tomb. 

CCMTER. 



HEAVEN. 



DAUGHTER of Faith ! awake, arise, illume 
The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb — 
Melt and dispel, ye spectre doubts, that roll 
Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul — 
Fly like the moon-ey'd herald of dismay, 
Chas'd on his night-stead by the star of day ! 
The strife is o'er — the pangs of Nature close, 
And Life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes— • 
Hark ! as the Spirit eyes with eagle gaze. 
The noon of Heav'n, undazzled by the blaze. 
On heav'nly winds that waft her to the sky. 
Float the sweet tones of star-born melody. 
Wild as that hallow'd anthem sent to hail 
Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale. 
When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still 
Watch'd on the holy towers of Zion's hill ! 

CAMPBELL, 



TO FANCY. 



O PARENT of each lovely muse ! 
Thy spirit o'er my soul diffuse. 
O'er allmy artless songs preside, 
My footsteps to thy temple guide. 
To offer at thy turf-built shrine 
In golden cups no costly wine. 
No murder'd fatling of the flock. 
But flow'rs and honey from the rock. 

O Nymph with loosely-flowung hair. 
With buskin'd leg, and bosom bare, 
'J'hy want with myrtle-girdle bound 
Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd. 
Waving in thy snowy hand 
An all-commanding magic wand, 
Of pow'r to bid fresh gardens grow 
'Mid cheerless Lapland's barren snow, 

T2 



4|2 CliASSICAL ENGLISH POETRV^* 

Whose rapid wings thy flight conve^ t^^^fiH 
Thro' air, and over earth and sea, i'n^f^ oT 
While the various landscape lies ^■^'^^^^^ 
Conspicuous to thy piercing eyes I -'^''^^ i&Al 
O lover of the desert, hail ! rijiw tu isd 

Say in what deep and pathless viW, '-^-^^ ^/; 
Or on what hoary mountain's side^ *^^,^ 

'Midst falls of water, you reside, " '- y 

'Midst broken rocks a rugged scenep^'^- ^^^i'^ 
With green and grassy dales betweeii;' ^-^ 
'Midst forests dark of aged oak. 
Ne'er echoing with the woodman's stroke. 
Where never human heart appear'd, 
Nor e'er one straw-roof 'd cot was rear'd. 
Where Nature seem'd to sit alone, 
Majestic on a craggy throne ; 
Tell me the path, sweet wand'rer tell. 
To thy unknown sequester'd cell, 
Where woodbines cluster round the door, 
Where shells and moss o'erlay the floor. 
And on whose top an hawthorn blows. 
Amid whose thickly- v/oven boughs 
Some nightingale still builds her nest. 
Each ev'ning warbling thee to rest ; 
Then lay me by the haunted stream. 
Rapt in some wild poetic dream. 
In converse while methinks I rove 
With Spenser thro' a fairy grove ; 
Till SLiddanly awak'd, I hear 
Strange whisper'd music in my ear. 
And my glad soul in bliss is drown'd 
By the sweetly-soothing sound ! 

Me, goddess, by the riglit- hand lead. 
Sometimes thro' the yellow mead, -'^-'' ■ 

Where Joy and white-rob'd Peace resort, -^^^^^ 
And Venus keeps her festive couit ; -' 

Where Mirth and iTouth each evening meet, 
And lightly trip with nimble feet^ 
Nodding their lily-crowned heads, 
Wheie Laughter rose-lip'd Hebe leads ; ;: 

Where Echo walks steep hills among, r., 

List'ning to the shepherd's song. «■ -^"^ 

Yet not these flow'ry fields of joy ^^nB^ 

Can long my pensive mind employ p^ 29A oStA 



CtASSiCAL EN'GLISH poCtrV. "413 

Haste, Fancy, from these scenes of folly. 
To meet the matron Melancholy/^ f.^^-^ ^'^^' \ 
Goddess of the tearful eye, ':*' ' ^Ht sfrciW 
That loves to fold her arms and sigh ! 
Let us with silent footsteps go 
To charnels and the house of woe, 
To Gothic churches, vaults, and tombs. 
Where each sad night some virgin comes. 
With throbbing breast, and faded cheek. 
Her promis'd bridegroom's urn to seek ; 
Or to some abbey's mould'ring tow'rs, 
V/here to avoid cold winter's show'rs. 
The naked beggar shiv'ring lies. 
Whilst whistling tempests round her rise, 
And trembles lest the tottering wall 
Should on her sleeping infants fall. 

Now let us louder strike the lyre, 
For my heart glows with martial fire ; 
I feel, I feel, with sudden heat. 
My big tumultuous bosom beat ! 
The trumpet's clangours pierce mine ear, 
A thousand widows' shrieks I hear ; 
" Give me another horse," I cry, 
Lo ! the base Gallic squadrons fly. 
Whence is this rage ? — What spirit, say. 
To battle hurries me away ? 
'Tis Fancy, in her fiery car. 
Transports me to the thickest war. 
There whirls me o'er the hills of slain. 
Where Tumult and Destruction reign ; 
Where, mad with pain, the wounded steed 
Tramples the dying and the dead : 
Where giant Terror stalks around. 
With sullen joy surveys the ground. 
And, pointing to th' ensanguin'd field, 
Shakes his dreadful Gorgon shield ! 

O ! guide me from this horrid scene 
To high-arch'd walks and alleys green, ^^ 

Which lovely Laura seeks, to shun \f. 

The fervours of the mid-day sun ! '/ 

The pangs of absence, O ! remove. 
For thou canst place me near my love. 
Canst fold in visionary bliss, ii-zjiil-ofi h 
And let me think I steal a kissi^ \^ B"^^ -^^''^ 

T3 



414 C LASS IC AL; ENGLI S H. PO ET R Y. 

When young-ey'd Spring profusely thrown 
From her green lap the pink and rose ; 
When the soft turtle of the dale 
To Summer tells her tender tale ; 
When Autumn cooling caverns seeks. 
And stains with wine his jolly cheeks ; 
When Winter, like poor pilgrim old. 
Shakes his silver beard with cold ; 
At ev'ry season let my ear 
Thy solemn whispers. Fancy, hear. 

O warm, enthusiastic maid. 
Without thy pow'rful vital aid. 
That breathes an energy divine. 
That gives a soul to ev'ry hne ; 
Ne'er may I strive with lips profane 
To utter an urihallow'd strain. 
Nor dare to touch the sacred string. 
Save when with smiles thou bid'st me sing 

O hear our pray'r, O hither come, ]'< rivissfiSni 
From thy lamented Shakespeare's tomb ! n^^f^ ^ 
On which thou lov'st to sit at eve, ^ si'4f^3 

Musing o'er thy darling grave ; " ' --- 

O Queen of numbers, once again 
Animate some chosen swain. 
Who, fiU'd with unexhausted fire. 
May boldly strike the sounding lyre. 
May rise above the rhyming throng. 
And with some new unequall'd song 
O'er all our list'ning passions reign, 
O'erwhelming our souls with joy and pain ; 
With terror shake, with pity move. 
Rouse with revenge, or melt with love. 
O deign t' attend his evening walk. 
With him in groves and grottos talk : 
Teach him to scorn with frigid art. 
Feebly to touch th' enraptur'd heart ; 
Like lightning let his mighty verse 
The bosom's inmost foldings pierce : 
With native beauties win applause. 
Beyond cold critic's studied laws : ■" ^ 

O let each Muse's fame increase, *^^«f>f^ ad 

O bid Britannia rival Greece ! 

WAR^ON. 



CLAssifci^-isil^QLisH poetry; ^03 

ELEGY. 
WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHUaCII-YARD. 

THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea. 

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way. 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight. 

And all the air a solemn stillness holds. 
Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight. 

And drowvsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r. 
The moping owl does to the moon complain 

Of such as wand'ring near her secret bow'r. 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
Where heaves the turf in many a mould'ring heap. 

Each in his narrow cell for ever laid. 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, 

The swallow twitt'ring from her straw-built shed. 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn. 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
Or busy housewife ply her evening care : 

No children run to lisp their sire's return. 
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield. 

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke : 

How jocund did they drive their team afield ! 

How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke • 

Let not Ambition mock their useful toil. 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 

Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, v 

The short and simple annals of the poor. T 

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r. 

And all that Beauty, all that Wealth e'er gave. 

Await alike th' inevitable hour. 

The paths of Glory lead but to the grave. 



Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault. 
If Mem'ry o'er their tomb no trophies raise. 

Where thro' the long-drawn aisle, and fretted vault, 
The pealing aiitl^em swells the note of praise, -^-i 

Can. storied urn, or animated bust, -brf? snusii ibrf L 
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breatli^giq ^dT 

Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, > rmns ImK 
Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Deatljilj ^srlT 

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid ^.^ :^^'-^ 

Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; ^t; 

Hands that the rod of empire might have sw^^jd^f^^ ^\^j 
Or wak'd to ecstacy the living lyre. !^^^ upI'io^A 

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, . .^ 

Rich with the spoils of Time did ne'er unrol;^^^"*^®^^^ 

Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, • ';'*^4 ^^^^\' ^ 
And froze the genial current of the soul.'*'^^ ^^^\ ^%'^ 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene _ 

The dark unfathom'd caves of Ocean bea*>»^^ ^^^^ ^^ 

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, ^-^^ ^^^rui 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. ■'Miiind 2 1 

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast, , ., 

The little tyrant of his fields withstood ; 
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, .. 

Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. ?i^^'' 

Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, .„, 

The threats of pain and ruin to despise, '^ ^tt >o 

To scatter plent)'^ o'er a smiling land, ' "' 

And read their history in a nation's eyes. 

Their lot forbade : nor circumscrib'd alone 

Their grovring virtues, but their crimes confin'di 

Forbade to wade thro' slaughter to a throne, k ' l^ 
And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; *^ '^\\t 

The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide. „ ^„q 
To quench the blushes of ingenuous Shame,^ ,- *, .,», 

Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride 4 l*oa/ 

With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. ^ ^ ^^^t^ „' 

Far from the maddina; crowd's iffnoble strife. , ,rr 

Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray: 'r^ ,p * 

Along the cool sequester'd vale of life '"^^ ^®^* . 

They kept the noiseless tenour of their way!^J?^'^"*95.f' 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETR^A'X-^ 4^^ 

Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protecf,q ^T <^^^^ 

Some frail memorial still erected nigh. 
With uneouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd. 

Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. ^^^^^^^ ^-^ 

Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettW*d Mus4 

The place of fame and elegy supply; 
And many a holy text around she strews, " "" ' -^""rr 

That teach the rustic moralist to die. >2 T^^^^^'i '^^^ 

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
This pleasing, anxious being e'er resign'd. 

Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day. 
Nor cast one longing ling'ring look behind ? 

On some fond breast the parting soul relies. 
Some pious drops the closing eye requires; 

Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, 
Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. 

For thee who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead. 
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; 

If chance, by lonely Contemplation led. 
Some kindred Spirit shall inquire thy fate. 

Haply some hoary-headed swain may say : 
*' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, 

" Brushing with hasty steps the dew away, 
*' To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 

'^ There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, 
" That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 

" His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 

"And pore upon the brook that bubbles by. . .^ 

*' Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, -"^- 
" Mutt'ring his wayward fancies he would rove; ? 

** Now drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn^ 
" Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love, 

*' One morn I miss'd him on th' accustom'd hill, 
" Along the heath, and near his favourite tree^ 

** Another canie; nor yet beside the rill, ^oni dJi W 
*' Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood waslie# .,\ 

" The next, with dirges due, in sad arrays -j^t^os' aisrfT 
'' Slow thro' the church-yard path we saw himt)orne^: A 

** Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, - 
** Grav'd oh the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 

T 5 



4lS* CLASSICAL ENOLrSH VOWfW^ 

THE JSPITAPH. : -.f «;.^ 

HERE rests his head upon the lap of Earth, 

A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown ri^'-^* 

Fan' Science frown'd not on his humble birth, . ^gfr 
And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. 

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 
Heav'n did a recom pence as largely send : 

He gave to Mis'ry all he had — a tear ; 

He gain'd from Heav'n ('twas all he wish'd) a friend. 

No farther seek his merit to disclose. 

Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, 

(There they alike in trembling hope repose) 

The bosom of his Father and his God. gray- 



THE NIGHT-PIECE. 

HARK ! the prophetic raven brings 

My summons on his boding wings I 

The birds of night my fate fdretel. 

The prescient death-watch sounds my knell. 

A solemn darkness spreads the tomb. 
But terrors haunt the midnight gloom ; 
Methinks a browner horror falls. 
And silent spectres sweep the walls. 

Tell rae, my soul, oh tell me why pi^:^ ^/^ 
The falt'ring tongue, the broken sigh I " 
Thy manly cheeks bedew'd with tears. 
Tell me, my soul, from whence these fears ? 

When conscious Guilt arrests the mind, 
Avenging Furies stalk behind. 
And sickly Fancy intervenes, 
Xq dress the visionary scenes. 

Jesus, to thee I'd fly for aid, ^tiioii i(' 

Propitious sun, dispel the shade ; a^ | [,toJ 
All the pale family of Fear ^ ■^^Whiil 

Would vanish, were my Saviour here. 

No more imagin'd spectres walk. 
No more the doubtful echoes talk: . ,4 ,7/ 
Soft Zephyrs fan the neighbouring tr€g§,ii3iiW 
And Meditation mounts the breeze. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 419 

How sweet these sacred hours of rest. 

Fair portraits of the virtuous breast. 

Where lawless lust, and passions rude, -5^ /TH.IH 

And folly, never dare intrude ! . -- A 

Be others' choice the sparkling bowl, . ^ niB, x 

And mirth, the poison of the soul ; ^^^ ^/*^" 

Or midnight dance, and public shows, ^^w q-^ibJ 
Parents of sickness, pains, and woes. nVfisH 

A nobler joy my thoughts design ; 3^ ^^ 

Instructive solitude be mine; :?H 

Be mine that silent calm repast, 
A cheerful conscience to the last. 

ITiat tree which bears immortal fruit. 
Without a canker at the root ; 
That friend which never fails the just. 
When other friends desert their trust. 

Come then, my soul, be this thy guest. 
And leave to knaves and fools the rest ; 
With this thou ever shalt be gay. 
And night shall brighten into day. 

With this companion in the shade. 
Surely thou couldst not be dismay'd : 
But if thy Saviour here were found. 
All Paradise would bloom around. 

" Had I a firm and lasting faith," 
To credit what th' Almighty saith, 
I would defy the midnight gloom, 
And the pale monarch of the tomb. 

Tho* tempests drive me from the shore. 
And floods descend, and billows roar; 
Tfco' Death appears in every form. 
My little bark should brave the storm. 

Then if my God requir'd the life 

Of brother, parent, child, or wife, ^ 

Lord, I should bless the stem decree. 

And give my dearest friend to thee. ^ 

Amidst the various scenes of il]s, 

Each stroke some kind design fulfils ; 

And shall I murmur at my God, ^ - 

When sovereign love directs the rod ? ^ 



42Q^ cLAssr^ai ^t^G^tilSw ¥dETRY. 

Peace, rebel thoughts — I'll not complain, 
My Father's smiles suspend my pain; 
Smiles — that a thousand joys impart, - eft's 
And pour the balm that heals the smar|. .^ /^ 

Tho' Heav'n afflicts I'll not repine, s^£3 ^dX 
Each heartfelt comfort still is mine ; ni nA 
Comforts that shall o'er Death prevail^ ^. ^. rrji 
And journey: with me thro' the vale. J^^*^ 

Dear Jesus, smooth that rugged way, to seodW 
And lead me to the realms of day, md oT 
To milder skies and brighter plains, , .,-, 
Where everlasting sunshine reigns. ^^'•*''^*%2a*T0N. 

________ isno rbtib 

THE DYING CHRISTIAN, ,- ^ ^r 

--.' edt im ton. 

" SPIRir—leave thine house of clay I ^ ^^^.'^-'t 
Lingering dust- — resign thy breath ! ' ''^ ^^•*"*^ 

Spirit — cast thy chains away ! 

Dust — be thou dissolv'd in death I" 

Thus thy Guardian Angel spoke 

As he watch 'd thy dying bed. 
As the bonds of life he broke. 

And the ransom'd captive fled. 

" Prisoner, long detain'd below. 

Prisoner, now with freedom blest. 
Welcome from a world of woe ! 

Welcome to a land of rest!" 

Thus thy Guardian Angel sang. 

As he bore thy soul on high, 't 

While with Hallelujah's rang. 

All the region of the sky ! ,:, 

Grave ! the guardian of our dust. 

Grave ! the treasury of the skies. 
Every atom of thy trust. 

Rests in hope again to rise.-— 

Hark ! the judgment-trumpet calls, ,.^r silJ 
*' Soul, rebuild thy house of clay— _ r- ^-iow oT 

Immortaliti/ thy Vfalh, ' H 

And Eternity thy day !" >lONTGOMERlf. 



FAR in the windings of a valcij ^riJ lyoq baA 
Fast by a sheltering wood, . ' ^j W'f 

The safe retreat of Health and Peace^^ , v fil^j^ 
An humble cottage stood : ' . -'- 

There beauteous Emma flourished fair 

Beneath a mother's eye ; 
Whose only wish on earth was now 

To see her bless'd, and die. 1^ 

. .^he softest blush that Nature spreads, 
*^'' Gave colour to her cheek : 
Such orient colour smiles thro' heaven^ 
When vernal mornings break. 

Nor let the pride of great ones scorn 

This charmer of the plains : 
That sun, which bids their diamonds blaze, r; 

To paint our lily deigns. '' 

Long had she fill'd each j'^outh with love. 

Each maiden with despair ; 
And tho' by all a wonder own'dj 

Yet knew not she was fair : 

Till Edwin came, the pride of swains, 

A soul devoid of art ; 
And from whose eye, serenely mild, -^^ 

Shone forth the feeling heart. ' ' 

A mutual flame was quickly caught ; t r 

Was quickly too reveal'd ; . 

For neither bosom lodg'd a wish .p;^/ 

That virtue keeps conceal'd. ^ ^^ ^^p^ 

s 

What happy hours of heart-felt bliss -- -.'skO 

Did love on both bestow ! i} 

But bliss too mighty long to last, -^vS 

Where Fortune proves a foe. sii 

His sister, who, like Envy form'd. 

Like her in mischief joy'd. 
To work them harm, with wicked skill ,\vi\^oi^tml 

Each darker art employ 'd. .■'% htih 



42% CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETKY? 

The father, too, a sordid man, T^]^ 

Who love nor pity knew, "' f^ .rp 

Was all unfeeling as the clod ^ ' S 
From whence his riches grew. '' "^'^"• 

Long had he seen their secret flame> "^'^^ »»«5 A 
And seen it long unmov'd; ^^ tsrl ^ 

Then with a father's frown at last '^^ '^fi^ 
He sternly disapprov'd. 

In Edwin's gentle heart, a war !j^ - 

Of diff 'ring passions strove : 
His heart, that durst not disobey. 

Yet could not cease to love. 



^JW 



Deny'd her sight he oft behind 

The spreading hawthorn crept ; 
To snatch a glance, to mark the spot 

Where Emma walk'd and wept. 

Oft, too, on Sfanmore's wint'ry waste. 

Beneath the moonlight shade. 
In sighs to pour his soften'd soul. 

The midnight mourner stray'd. 

His cheek, where health with beauty glow'd 

A deadly pale o'ercast : 
So fades the fresh rose in its prime. 

Before the northern blast. » >^, 

The parents now, with late remorse, "mH gjl 

Hung o'er his dying bed ; o ^il. 

And wearied Heaven with fruitless vows. 
And fruitless sorrows shed. 

" 'Tis past 1" he cried ; " but if your souls ^ ?^*^ ^*^ 
" Sweet mercy yet can move, '" -'f^"* ^ 

" Let these dim eyes once more behold 
'^ What they must ever love !" 

She came ; his cold hand softly touched. 

And bath'd with many a tear : ,. j j ^^^tn', 

Fast falling o'er the primrose pale, ,..-[* ^r^'C- 

So morning dews appear. 

But oh ! his sister's jealous care, 

(A cruel sister she!) />H HidgU k^ 

Forbade what Emma came to, say ; i? ,joii aii&fB 

" My Edwin^ live for mef^oa-S ^aqiuhaq. ^ho^ tv 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POET^y, 4**^ 

Now homeward as she hopeless wepi*n'ti*> ^flT 

The church-yard path along. 
The blast blew cold, the dark owl screara'd 

Her lover's funeral song. 

Amid the falling gloom of night. 

Her startling fancy found 
In ev'ry bush his hov'ring shade. 

His groan in ev'ry sound. 

Alone, appall'd, thus had she pass'd 

The visionaiy vale — 
When lo ! the death-bell smote her ear. 

Sad sounding in the gale ! 

Just then she reach'd, with trembling step. 

Her aged mother's door : 
" He's gone !" she cry'd ; " and I shall see 

" That angel-face no more ! 

" I feel, I feel, this breaking heart, 

" Beat high against my side!" — 
From her white arm down sunk her head. 

She shiver'd, sigh'd, and died. mallet-^ 



THE DROWNING FLY. 

IN yonder glass behold a drowning fly ! 
Its little feet how vainly does it ply ! 
Its cries we hear not, yet it loudly cries. 
And gentle hearts can feel its agonies ! 
Poor helpless victim — and will no one save ? 
Will no one snatch thee from the threat'ning wave ? 
Is there no friendly hand — no helper nigh. 
And must thou, little struggler — must thou die ? 
Thou shalt not, whilst this hand can set thee free. 
Thou shalt not die — this hand shall rescue thee ! 
My finger's tip shall prove a friendly shore. 
There, trembler, all thy dangers now are o'er. 
Wipe thy wet wings, and banish all thy fear ; 
Go, join thy num'rous kindred in the air ; 
Away it flies ; resumes its harmless play ; 
And lightly gambols in the golden ray. 

Smile not, spectators, at this humble deed ; 
For you, perhaps, a nobler task's decreed : 



4^^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH SP6ETRY. 

A young and sinking family to save j ^-^ f^^^ |jji/ 

To raise the infant from destruction's wave f .^^ ^nsfiT 
To you, for help, the victims lift their eyes : s^ ' if^f^ 
Oh ! hear, for pity's sake, their plaintive cries; : - ° 
Ere long, unless some guardian interpose. 
O'er their devoted heads, the flood may closet r!>^^«^>i 



THE HERMIT. ^^^IMS WoM 

FAR in a WilB, unknown to public view, 'f^o ^«^-' 

From youth to age a rev'rend Hermit grew ; ^^''^^ j^|^ 
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, " "^'^ t 

His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well ; 
Remote from man, with God he pass'd his days, 
Pray'r all his bus'ness, all his pleasure praise. 

A life so sacred, such serene repose, >, j^'f 

Seem'd heav'n itself, till one suggestion rose— -"? 

That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey ; 
This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway : 
His hopes no more a certain prospect boast. 
And all the tenour of his soul is lost. 
So, when a smooth expanse receives imprest 
Calm Nature's image on its wat'ry breast, 
Down bend tlie banks, the trees depending grow. 
And skies beneath with answering colours glow ; 
But, if a stone the gentle sea divide, 
Swift ruffling circles curl on ev'ry side. 
And gllmm'ring fragments of a broken sun. 
Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder run. 

' To clear this doubt, to know the world by siglit. 

To find if books, or swains, report it right, 

(For, yet by swains alone the world he knew. 

Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew,) 

He quits his cell ; the pilgrim-staff he bore. 

And fix'd the scallop in his hat before; ,;;uoT d^ 

Then, with the rising sun, a journey went, ^ 

Sedate to think, and watchine each event. °f\ -. 

^ The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, t tuG. 

And long and lonesome was the wild to pass ; jiT 

But, when the southern sun had warm'd the day, 
A youth came posting o'er a crossing way ; 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETIVlci 4^^ 

His raiment decent, his complexion fair^ rf?? B^.? Ti^^^^^T, ^ 
And soft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair : ^iei oT 

Then, near approaching, " Father, hail I" he cried^^^ oT 
And, " Hail, my son !*' the rev'rend sire replied :id I dO 
Words followed words, from question answer flo^j^^l 3*2£ 
And talk, pf various kind, deceiv'd the road jai.&iiS ta'O 
Till each with other pleas'd, and loath to part. 
While in their age they differ, join in heart. 
Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound. 
Thus useful ivy clasps an elm around. 

Now sunk the sun ; the closing hour of day ^ . 

Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray ; ^^ 

Nature, in silence, bid the world repose ; ^ 

When, near the road, a stately palace rose ; ^ ' 

There, by the moon, thro' ranks of trees they pass, ^^^/ 
Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides with grass, "^ ^ 
It chanc'd the noble master of the dome 
Still made his house the wand'ring stranger's home ; 
Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, 
Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease. 
The pair arrive : the livery 'd servants wait ; 
Their lord receives them at the pompous gate ; 
The table groans with costly piles of food. 
And all is more than hospitably good. ^^"^ 

Then led to rest, the day's long toil they drown. 
Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down. 

At length 'tis morn, and, at the dawn of day, '^^^'.jj 

Along the wide canals the zephyrs play ; 
Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezesi creep. 
And shake the neighbouring wood to banish sleep. ^ 

Up rise the guests, obedient to the call ; 12 < ^ «-^ 

An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall ; o"^' ^ 

Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd, '^ ?>^' 

Which the kind master forc'd the guests to taste. 
Then, pleas'd and thankful, from the porch they go ; 
And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe:— 
His cup was vanish'd ; for in secret guise, 
The younger guest purloin'd the glitt'ring prize. 

As one who spies a serpent in his way, 
Glist'ning and basking in the summer ray, i?w if^om sc^ i 
Disorder'd stops to shun the danger near, ivt<'. -^wol bp/ 
Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fearj^'^''^ $^^ 



4S6 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

So seem'd the Sire, when, far upon the roas^ ^^>^ ^^^ _ 
The shining spoil his wily partner show'd. '~ ''"" "'" 
He stopp'd with silence, walk'd with trembling heart. 
And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part : 
Murm'ring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard 
That gen'rous actions meet a base reward. . -^ ^ ^'-- 

While thus they pass, the sun his glory shroudsf^^^'^*^ 
The changing skies hang out their sable clouds ; 
A sound in air presag'd approaching rain. 
And beasts to covert scud across the plain. 
Warn'd by the signs, the wand'ring pair retreat 
To seek for shelter at a neighboring seat. 
'Twas built with turrets on a rising ground. 
And strong, and large, and unimprov'd around ; 
Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe. 
Unkind and griping, caus'd a desert there. 
As near the miser's heavy door they drew. 
Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew ; 
The nimble lightning, mix'd with show'rs, began^ . .r 
And o'er their heads loud rolling thunders ran, •" ^ * , ' 
Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain, 
Driv'n by the wind, and batter'd by the rain. 
At length some pity warm'd the master's breast 
('Twas then his threshold first received a guest) : 
Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care^ 
And half he welcomes in the shivering pair ; 
One frugal faggot lights the naked walls. 
And Nature's fervour thro' their limbs recalls : 
Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wine, 
(Each hardly granted,) serv'd them both to dine; 
And when the tempest first appear'd to cease, 
A ready warning bid them part in peace. 

With still remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd. 
In one so rich, a life so poor and rude; 
And why should such (within himself he cried) 
Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside? 
But what new marks of wonder soon take place 
In every settling feature of his face. 
When, from his vest, the young companion bore 
That cup, the gen'rous landlord own'd before. 
And paid profusely with the precious bowl. 
The stinted kindness of this. churlish soul I ^ "" ,..^ - -- 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETii¥*IS 40' 

But now the clouds in airy tumult fly f "^^ b'ms^^ -■ 
The sun emerging opes an azure sky; ' 

A fresher green the smelling leaves display. 
And, glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the day : 
The weather courts them from their poor retreat. 
And the glad master bolts the weary gate. ^ ^^^ ^^"^ 

While hence tliey walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrought 
With ail the travail of uncertain thought: 
His partner's acts without their cause appear ; 
'Twas there a vice, and seem'd a madness here ; 
Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes. 
Lost and confounded with the various shows. 



} 



Now night's dim shades again involve the sky ; 
Again the wand'rers want a place to lie ; 
Again they search, and find a lodging nigh. 
The soil improv'd around, tlie mansion neat. 
And neither poorly low, nor idly great ; 
It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind, i 

Content, and not for praise, but virtue, kind, i 

Hither the walkers turn their weary feet, "A 

Then bless the mansion, and the master greet. ^; 
Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise. 

The courteous master hears, and thus replies: 1 

*' Without a vain, without a grudging heart, 
" To him who gives us all, I yield a pai*t ; 
" From him you come, for him accept it here, 
" A frank and sober, more than costly cheer !'* 
He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread. 
Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed ; 
When the grave household round his hall repair, 
Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with pray'r. 

At length the world, renew'd by calm repose. 
Was strong for toil, the dappled morn arose ; 

Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept y^ 

Near a clos'd cradle where an infant slept, -I 

And writh'd his neck : the landlord's little pride, ' ■ | 
O strange return ! grew black, and gasp'd, and dy'd ! f 
Horror of horrors ! what ! his only son ! 

How look'd our Hermit when the fact was done ! ^j^ 

Not hell, tho' hell's black jaws in sunder part, *-^ 

And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. * 



41^ CLASSICAL EKGLi^H Poetry. 

Confus'd, and struck with silence at the dee^P^^ ^ . 
He flies, but trembling, fails to fly with speed. '"^ ^"^ [^ 
His steps the youth pursues : the country lay "'.''f^^^ , 
Perplex'd with roads, a servant show'd the way ; 
A river cross'd the path ; the passage o'er 
Was nice to find ; the servant trod before ; 
Long arms of oaks an open bridge supply'd, f ' 

And deep the waves beneath them bending gli«le^i>riA ^"' 
The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, -- , . 
Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in ; 
Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head. 
Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead. 

While sparkling rage inflames the father's eye9,,?Bri 
He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, x!^ baK • 
*' Detested wretch T* — but scarce his speech began. 
When the strange partner seem'd no longer man ! 
His youthful face grew more serenely sweet ; 
His robe turned white, and flow'd upon his feet ; 
Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair ; 
Celestial odours breathe thro' purpled air ; 
And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day. 
Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. 
The form ethereal bursts upon his sight. 
And moves in all the majesty of light. 

Tho' loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew. 
Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do ; 
Surprise, in secret chains, his words suspends. 
And in a calm, his settling temper ends. 
But silence here the beauteous angel broke 
(The voice of Music ravish'd as he spoke) : 

" Thy pray 'r, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, 
" In sweet memorial rise before the throne : 
" These charms success in our bright region find, 
*' And force an angel down to calm thy mind ;y^^>^//,o^ 
" For this commission'd, I forsook the sky : , . -. :^ 
*' Nay, cease to kneel — thy fellow- servant I, 

" Then know the truth of government djvijij^ 
** And let these scruples be no longer thine, t. -^j^j^ j^nA 

" The Maker justly claims that world he ma4e^i^fxfx '» 
<* In this the right of Providence is laid ; ,.j iiBq^Q 

** Its sacred majesty thro' all depends 
*' On using second'means to work his ends : 



CtASSIGAL ENGLISH POETKY.JC^ 

'* 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human J^y5iy^«^i>-^ 
" The pow'r exerts his attributes on high, r^l ^gsiB sH 
" Your action uses^ nor controls your will, ' s^^-^- ^^^^ 
" And bids the doubting sons of men be still. b'xskpa^I 

" What strange events can strike with more surprise^; 
" Than those which lately struck thy wond'ring eyes ?, 
" Yet, taught by these, confess the Almighty just, '-t,,!^^, 
^' And, where you can't unriddle, learn to trust , 'i'^ 

" The great vain man, who far'd on costly food^/iqc|A 
'' Whose life was too luxurious to be good ; 
" Who made his iv'ry stands with goblets shine, 
" And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine ; 
'' Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, 
" And still he welcomes, but with less of cost. 

*' The mean suspicious wretch, whose bolted door 

'^ Ne'er mov'd in pity to the wand'ring poor ; ; A 

" With him I lift the cup, to teach his mind 'I 

•' That Heav'ri can bless, if mortals will be kind. i 

^' Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, >' J 

" And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. \ 

" Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, "^ 

" With heaping coals of fire upon its head; 2 
" In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, 
" And, loose from dross, the silver runs below. 

" Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, £- 
" But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God ; ^>B 

^' (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, i\ 

" And measured back his steps to earth again. ^ 
" To what excesses had his dotage run ! 
" But God, to save the father, took the son. 
" To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, 

" And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow. ■ ^ 

^' The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, L 

*' Now owns in tears the punishment was just. , { v; 

" But how had all his fortunes felt a wrack, : ,^&'^ ^ 
" Had that false servant sped in safety back? - 

" This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal, ,. «^ 
" And what a fund of charity would fail ! 

" Thus Heav'n instructs thy mind : this ti'ial o'er, 
f ' Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more." ;, %h 

rgDfis iiti 2i\^j^- "'■ ■:■■■■ - '•■ '^' *^ 



On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew. 
The sage stood wond'ring as the seraph flew. 
Thus look'd Elisha, when, to mount on high, 
His master took the chariot of the sky ; 
The fiery pomp ascending left the view; 
The prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too. " " - j^. 

The bending Hermit here a pray'r begun, :--[;* lO 
'^ Lord, as in heav'n, on earth thy will be done." 
Then, gladly turning, sought his ancient place, ^ 
And pass'd a life of piety and peace. parnell. 



THE BRITISH ISLES. 

HAPPY Britannia! where the queen of arts, 
Inspiring vigour. Liberty abroad 
Walks unconfin'd, ev'n to thy farthest cots. 
And scatters plenty with unsparing hand. 

Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime ; 
Thy streams unfailing in the summer's drought ; 
Unmatch'd thy guardian oaks ; thy valleys float 
With golden waves ; and on thy mountains flocks 
Bleat numberless ; while roving round their sides 
Bellow the black'ning herds in lusty droves. 
Beneath thy meadows glow, and rise unquell'd 
Against the mower's sithe. On ev'ry hand 
Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth, 
And property assures it to the swain, 
Pleas'd and unweary'd in his guarded toil. 

Full are thy cities with the sons of Art, 
And trade and joy in ev'ry busy street 
Mingling are heard : ev'n Drudgery himselt^ 
As at the car he sweats, or dusty hews 
Tile palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports. 
Where rising masts an endless prospect yield. 
With labour burn, and echo to the shouts 
Of hurry'd sailor, as he hearty waves 
His last adieu, and loos'ning ev'ry sheet. 
Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind. 

Bold, firm, and graceful are thy gen'rous youth. 
By hardship sinew'd, -and by danger fir'd, 
Scatt'ring the nations where they go, and first .-^ ^; 
Or on the listed plain or stormy seas. ^ ""^ ^*" 



CLASSICAL ENGUSH POETRV. 4S1 

Mild are thy glories, too, as o'er the pla»sshaoos ^ ^ > 
Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires presideF?gii£ ^f»l 
In genius and substantial learning high : ool Rtinl 

For ev'ry virtue, ev'ry worth renown'd ; 

Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind ; 
Yet, like the must'ring thunder, when provok'd. 
The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource 
Of those that under grim Oppression groan. 

Thy sons of glory many ! Alfred thine, 
In whom the splendour of heroic war. 
And more heroic peace, when govern'd well, 
Combine ; whose hallow'd name the Virtues saint. 
And his own muses love ; the best of kings ! 
With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys shine, 
Names dear to fame ; the first who deep impressed 
On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arm. 
That awes her Genius still. In statesmen thou. 
And patriots fertile. Thine a steady More, 
Who with a gen'rous, tho' mistaken zeal. 
Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage ; 
Like Cato firm, like Aristides just. 
Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor, 
A dauntless soul, erect, who smil'd on death. 
Frugal and wise, a Walsingham is thine ; 
A Drake, who made thee mistress of the deep. 
And bore thy name in thunder round the world. 
Then flam'd thy spirit high. But who can speak 
The num'rous worthies of the maiden reign ? 
In Raleigh mark their every glory mix'd ; 
Raleigh, the scourge of Spain ! whose breast with all 
The sage, the patriot, and the hero burn'd. 
Nor can the muse the gallant Sidney pass. 
The plume of war ; with early laurels crown'd. 
The lover's myrtle, and the poet's bay. 
A Hampden, too, is thine, illustrious land ! 
Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul. 
Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward age. 
To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again. 
In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. 
Bright at his call thy age of men effulg'd. 
Of men on whom late time a kindling eye 
Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. 
Bring ev'ry sweetest flow'r, and let me strev/ 



432 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETftVP 

The grave where Russel lies, whose tempered blood, 

With calmest cheerfulness for thee resigned, 

Stain'd the sad annals of a giddy reign. 

Aiming at lawless pow'r, tho' meanly sunk 

In loose inglorious luxury. With him 

His friend, the British Cassius, fearless bled, 

Of high determin'd spirit, roughly brave. 

By ancient learning to the enlighten'd love 

Of ancient freedom warm'd. Fair thy renown 

In awful sages and in noble bards ; 

Soon as the light of dawning Science spread 

Her orient ray, and wak'd the muses' song. 

Thine is a Bacon, hapless in his choice. 

Unfit to stand the civil storm of state, 

And thro' the smooth barbarity of courts 

With firm, but pliant virtue forward still 

To urge his course. Him for the studious shade 

Kind Nature form'd, deep, comprehensive, clear. 

Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul 

Plato, the Stagirite, and TuUy join'd. 

The great deliv'rer he ! who from the gloom 

Of cloister'd monks, and jargon-teaching schools 

Led forth the true Philosophy, there long 

Held in the magic chain of words, and forms. 

And definitions void : he led her forth. 

Daughter of Heaven ! that slow-ascending still. 

Investigating sure the chain of things. 

With radiant finger points to heav'n again. 

The gen'rous Ashley thine, the friend of man, 

W^ho scann'd his nature with a brother's eye, 

His weakness prompt to shade, to raise his aim, 

To touch the finer movements of the mind. 

And with the moral beauty charm the heart. 

Why need I name thy Boyle, whose pious search 

Amid the dark recesses of his works 

The great Creator sought ! and why thy Locke ? 

Who made the whole internal world his own ! 

Let Newton, pure intelligence ! whom God 

To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works 

From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame 

In all Philosophy. For lofty sense. 

Creative fancy, and inspection keen 

Thro' the deep windings of the human heart, 

Js not wild Shakespeare thine and Nature's boast } 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 42^ 

Is not each great, each amiable muse, ^ 

Of classic ages, in. thy Milton met? '^^ 

A genius universal as his theme, "^ 

Astonishing as chaos, as the bloom ^^ 

Of blowing Eden fair, as heav'n sublime. 5^ 

Nor shall my verse that elder bai-d forget, ' ** 

The gentle Spenser, Fancy's pleasing son, • 

Who, like a copious river, pour'd his song 
O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground ; 
Nor thee, his ancient master, laughing sage, 
Chaucer, whose native manners-painting verse, 
Well moraliz'd, shines thro' the Gothic cloud 
Of time and language o'er thy genius thrown. 

Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas 
That thunder round thy rocky coasts set up. 
At once the wonder, terror, and delight, 
Of distant nations, whose remotest shores 
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm, 
Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults 
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-v/ave, 

O Thou, by whose almighty nod the scale 
Of empire rises or alternate falls. 
Send forth the saving Virtues round the land 
In bright patrol : white Peace, and social Love ; 
The tender.looking Charity, intent 
On gentle deeds,,and shedding tears thro' smiles; 
Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of Mind ; 
Courage compos'd and keen; sound Temperance, 
Healthful in heart and look ; clear Chastity, 
With blushes redd'ning as she moves along, 
Disorder'd at the deep regard she draws ; 
Kough Industry, Activity untir'd, 
With copious life inform'd, and all awake ; 
While in the radiant fiont superior shines 
That first paternal virtue, Public Zeal, 
Who throws o'er all an equal wide survey, 
And ever musing on the common weal. 
Still labours, glorious, with some great design. 

THOMSOK, 



ODE TO lEDUCATION. 

WHEN now on Britain's sea-girt shore. 

Resounds the threafning voice of war, . 
Bursts the Joud cannon's frequent roar; '^'^ 

And glai'es the ensign from afar; - '^ 

The Muse, who shuns the harsh alarms 
That wake the madding world to arms. 
And scorns to share the factious rage. 
That prompts to deeds of blood the age ; 
Turns joyful to those happier seats 

Where sacred Science loves to rest. 
And Genius, 'midst the calm retreats. 

Pours all his influence o'er the breast: 
Not more rever'd the hallo w'd bow'rs. 
Where truth distill'd from Plato's honey'd tongue ; 
Nor those fair scenes, where Tully's happier hours 
In philosophic leisure fled along. 

There Education, power divine, 

Her favourite temple long has plann'd. 
And calls around her sacred shrine. 

To guard her laws, a chosen band. 
Where yon fair dome its front uprears. 
Her venerable foi-m appears ; 
To the young view one hand displays 
The wreath of honourable praise : 
With stronger grasp her left sustains 

The harsher emblems of control, 
That check wild Folly's headlong reinSj 

And bend the rude and stubborn soul : 
In dreadful state, behind her glide. 
Her handmaids. Fear, and Jealousy, and Shame ' 
By whom she knows the youthful step to guide. 
To peace, to virtue, excellence, and fame. 

Mark, how th' attentive votaries throng. 
Where she her genuine lore impartj? ' 

And catch from her inspiring tongue 
The thirst of praise, the love of arts. 

As she unvc;ls the brighter day. 

The shades of error melt away. 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POEtim 435 

And sacred Truth of simple mien, 
In all her native charms is seen : 
. — Not she who o'er her shadovfy coast 
Long led th' inquiring mind astray. 
In dull scholastic reasonings lost, 

While Aristotle led the way ; 
But she, who Bacon's vows approv'd. 
And o'er his hours of meditation stole. 
Who at one glance (each ling'ring doubt remov'd) • 
With charms congenial strikes the human soul. 

What joys ! whilst youth its aid supplies. 
To trace the years that long have fled. 
And bid th' illustrious forms arise 
Of sages, and of warriors dead : 
In soft attention catch the sound 
That Virgil's genius pours around. 
Sweet, as when first the matchless song 
Spontaneous echo'd from his tongue ; 
With sprightly Horace smile at care. 
And ev'ry fleeting hour improve; 
With exil'd Ovid drop the tear. 

And with Tibullus melt in love ; 
Or when, by Cicero taught to flow. 
Strong and unfetter'd rolls the nervous Ime, 
To feel his passions, catch his genuine glow, , 
His conquering waimth, and energy divine ' 

But whilst elate the youthful bands 

Each beauty of past ages share. 
Her wonted victim's life demands. 

And points to more substantial care ; 
Severer studies then engage 
The seasons of maturer age. 
To fill with dignity and ease 
The several stations Heav'n decrees. 
—Yon sprightly train, who erst were joy'd 

To trace each herb of varied hue, , 
That decks the mountain's vernal side. 

And Nature's bashful steps pursue ; 
Ere long/ improv'd by studious toil. 
Shall soothe the frame by fell disease opprest. 
Bid brightening Health diffuse her wonted smile. 

And give to Friendship's vow the kindred breast. 

U 2 



43G CLASSICAL E^GXilSH POETiljY. 

Yon few —as yet unknown to strife-T-j oj M^€i 

Whom Tully's liberal spirit cliai-ras^ g3!)ol)fxc 
—Foes to the silent paths of life, =; "'.-'id <jT. 

The thirst of elocution waitns : ^ ismiit i-~ 
Their's be the task, to mark with awe ? ^,, f \ 
The mighty edifice of law : ' '' ' 

And having caught the general view. 
Trace ev'ry varied chamber thro' : . Uj^a, 
And may they scorn the vulgar tribej^'^/^,,'.^ r 

Who sense for formal jingle slight : 
Superior to the guilty tribe. 

With learning grave, with wit polite : 
By Blackstone's bright example taught. 
Watch o'er each private right with generous feai' ; 
And, with th' unconquer'd love of freedom fraught. 
Preserve those claims to every Briton dear. 

Yet nobler paths for some remain 

— By hallow'd footsteps only trod ; 
And these shall seek the sacred fane. 

And give their studious hours to God. f 

Hark ! while the inspiring diction Hows, 
Each breast with holy rapture glows ; 
See trembling Guilt betrays his fears. 
See sad Repentance pours her tears. 
Till from her starry mansion charm'd. 
The smiling cherub Peace descends, 
And o'er the soul with doubts alarm'd. 
Her guardian wings unseen extends, 
. Whilst those, attentive to the cause 
Of Britain, shall to her devote their days ; 
In the full senate meet unbought applause. 
And place their glory in their country's praise. 

Exulting Science now disdains - 

The ties of Custom's proud control. 
And breaks the rude and barb'rous chains 

That fetter 'd down the free-born soul ; 
Extinguish'd now her vernal fires, 
Lo! Superstition slow retires; 
Or from some cloister's mouldering fane. 
Roars out her mutter'd curse in vain : . 

While the warm breast, with generous jo^&um w 

Embraces all of Inmian kind ; ..-rlJ qs.m.'g 

And scorns each mean and naiTowex:^^^ gnoiwl ' 

To clunate and to sect confin'd. 



CLASSICAL ■ EN&fl^H^^oSM-:^ "■ ; ,. W 

Deaf to the bigot's frantic voice, 71^1,^:^^ 
Conducts each dubious step by Reason's plan. 

To her unerring rule conforms its choice 
Nor tamely yields the sacred rights of man. 

O ye ! whom Science chose to guide i 

Her unpolluted stream along, 
Adoni with flowers its cultur'd side. 

And to its taste allure the young : 
O say, what language can reveal 
Th* exalted pleasures you must feel. 
When fir'd by you, the youthful breast 
Disdains to court inglorious rest : 
And to the world's admiring gaze, 

(Each precept into action brought,) 
In full realities displays 

The lib'ral maxims you have taught ! 
A transport this, superior far 
To all the bliss th' exulting conqueror feels. 
When crowds triumphant hail him from the war. 
And conquer'd nations crouch beneath his wheels. 

Oft as those favour'd haunts among 

Your youthful bard delighted roves, 
Attentive to the nobler song 

That breathes along the list'ning groves ; 
He seem'd to tread on classic ground j 
A sacred influence breathes around. 
And while he feels its awe divine. 

He fondly grasps the vast design. — 
— But ah ! far weightier cares renew 

Their claims, and check the rising strain. 
Again he joins Life's general crew. 

The dull, the giddy, and the vain : 
Thus echoing thro' the rural bow'rs, 
Th' imprison'd songster hears each rival lay; 
Whilst cold restraint represses all his pow'rs, 

And, unapplauded, flies his joyless day. roscoe. 



THE DYING HORSE. 



HEAV'N ! what enormous strength does Death possess! 
How muscular the giant's arm must be 
To grasp that strong-bon'd horse, and, spite of all 
His furious effijrts, Sx him to the earth ! 



4S8 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Yet, hold, he rises ! — ^no^—^the struggle's vain ; 
His strength avails him not. Beneath the gripe 
Of the remorseless monster, stretch'd at length 
He lies, with neck extended ; head hard press'd 
Upon the very turf where late he fed. 
His writhing fibres speak his inward pain ! 
His smoking nostrils speak his inward fire 1 
Oh, how he glares ! — and, hark ! methinks I hear 
His bubbling blood, which seems to burst the veins. 
Amazement ! Horror, What a desp'rate plunge 1 
See, where his iron'd hoof has dash'd a sod ,; i^i? »/ 
With the velocity of lightning. Ah I — .^^ sisrl W 
He rises,—- triumphs ; — yes, the victory's his ! 
No, — ^the wrestler, Death, again has thrown him I 
And, oh ! with what a murd'ring dreadful fall ! 
—Soft ; — he is quiet. Yet, whence came tliat groan ? 
Was't from his chest, or from the throat of Death 
Exulting in his conquests ? I know not. 
But, if 'twas his, it surely was his last ; ., , 

For, see, he scarcely stirs ! soft ! Does he breathe -1^ J J 
Ah, no ! he breathes no more. 'Tis very strange I ' 
How still he's now ; how fiery hot, — how cold I 
How terrible, how lifeless ! all within . 
A few brief moments ! — my reason sUggcrs ! 
Philosophy, thy poor enlighten'd dotard. 
Who canst assign for every thing a cause, 
Here take thy stand beside me, and explain 
ihis hidden mystery. Bring with thee 
The headstrong atheist, who laughs at heavn 
And impiously ascribes events to chance. 
To help to solve this wonderful enigma ! 
First, tell me, ye proud haughty reas'ners. 
Where the vast strength this creature late possess d 
Has fled to ? How the bright sparkling fire. 
Which flash'd but now from these dim rayless eyes, 
Has been extinguish'^ ?— 0/e .' he's dead, you say. 
I know it well;— but, how, and by what means.? 
Was it the arm of chance which struck him down. 
In height of vigour, and in pride of strength. 
To stifffen in the blast ? Come, come, tell me : 
Nay, shake not thus the heads that arc enrich'd 
With eighty years of wisdom, glcan'd from books, 
From nights of study, and the magazines 
Of^knowledge, which yoiur predecessors left. 



^^LASSi:CAe ^ENGLISH 1»0lE¥fiY. 4^89 

What ! not a word !— I ask you, once agaiiT> ;;b[«>d Ji»T 

How comess it that the wondrous essence, i 

Which gave such vigour to these strong-nerv'd liriibs,^ 

Has leap'd from its inclosure, and compell'd 

This noble workmanship of Nature thus 

To sink into a cold inactive clod ? ? ail i ' 

Nay, s?ieak not off' thus coivardly? rPoor fools la alH 

Ye are as destitute of information i wod ^flO 

As is the lifeless subject of my thoughts ! Mtfi'd srH 
— The subject of my thoughts ? — yes,. — ^tliere he lies. 
As free from life as if he ne'er had liv'd. 
Where are Iiis friends, and where liis old acquaintance. 
Who borrow'd from his strength, when, in the yoke. 
With weary pac^ the steep ascent they climb'd ? 
Where are the gay companions of his prime. 
Who with him ambled o'er the flow'ry turf. 
And, proudly snorting, pass'd the way-woni hack 
With haughty brow ; and, on his ragged coat 
Look'd with contemptuous scorn ? Oh, yonder see. 
Carelessly basking in the mid-day sun, 
I'liey lie, and heed him not ; — little thinking, 
Wliile there they triumph in the blaze of noon. 
How soon the dread annihilating hour 
Will come, and Death seal up ilieir eyes. 
Like liis, lor ever ! Now, moralizer. 
Retire ! Yet, first proclaim this sacred truth ; 
Chance rules not over Death ; bat, when a fly 
Falls to the earth, 'tis heav'n tiat gives the b-low J 

BLACEET. 



SONNET 
ON THE DEPARTURE OF THE NIGHTINGALa 

SWEET poet of the woods, a long adieu ! 

Farewell, soft minstrel of the early year ! 
Ah 1 'twill be long ere thou shalt sing anew, . 

And pour thy music on the Night's dull ear. 
Whether on Spring thy wand'ring flights await. 

Or whether silent in our groves you dwell. 
The pensive Muse shall own thee for her mate. 

And atill protect tlie song she loves so well. ......A 



44^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH ¥GEt!iy» 

With cautious step, the love-lorn youth shall glide 
Tl}ro* the lone brake that shades thy mossy ne§t| 

And shepherd girls, from eyes profane, shall hide 
The gentle bird, who sings of pity best; 

For still thy voice shall soft affections move. 

And still be dear to sorrow and to love ! 



RETIREMENT; t. . -« W 



WHEN in the crimson cloud of even; 

The lingering light decays. 
And Hesper on the front of heaven 

His glittering gem displays ; 
Deep in the silent vale, unseen. 

Beside a lulling stream, 
A pensive youth, of placid mien, 

Indulff'd his tender theme. , ^ -^ 

Ye clifFs, in holy grandeur pil'd, '"^ 

High o'er the glimmering dale ; 
Ve woods, along whose windings wild 

Murmurs the solemn gale; 
Wiiere Melancholy strays forlorn. 

And Woe retires to weep, 
What time the wane moon's yellow lioni 

Gleams on the western deep : 

To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms 

Ne'er drew Ambition's eye, 
'Scap'd a tumultuous world's alarms, 

To your retreats I fly. 
Deep in your most sequester'd bower 

Let me at last recline. 
Where Solitude, mild modest Power, 

Leans on her ivy'd shrine. 

How shall I woe thee, matchless fafr; 

lliy heavenly smile how win ? 
Thy smile, that smooths the brow of Care, 

And stills the storm within. 
O wilt thou to thy favourite grove 

Thine ardent votary bring. 
And bless his hours, and bid them mtjjee jg^n^ 

Serene, on silent wing .^ 



GI<ASS IGAL : ENGLISH POETRY* 4*44^ 

Oil let remembrance. soothe his mmtiBtrdilMfi^ fBi^^^ 

With dreams of former days, ^~.* -f: 

When in the lap of Peace reclin'd. 

He fram'd his infant lays; 
When Fancy rov'd at large, nor Care 

Nor cold Distrust alarm'd. 
Nor Envy, with malignant glare. 

His simple youthJiad harm'd : 

Twas then, O Solitude, to thee 

His early vows were paid. 
From heart sincere, and warm, and free. 

Devoted to the shade ! 
Ah ! why does Fate his steps decoy. 

In stormy paths to roam. 
Remote from all congenial joy, 

O take the wanderer home ! 

Thy shades, thy silence, now be mine, 

Thy charms my only theme ; 
My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine 

Waves o'er the gloomy stream ; 
Whence the scar'd owl, on pinions greyj 

Breaks from the rustling boughs. 
And down the lone vale sails away. 

To more profound repose. 

O while to thee the woodland pours 

Its wildly warbling song, 
And balmy from the bank of flowers 

The zephyr breathes along. 
Let no rude sound invade from far. 

No vagrant foot be nigh. 
No ray from Grandeur's gilded car 

Flash on the startled eye 1 

But, if some pilgrim thro' the glade j- 

Thy hallow'd bowers explore, 
O guard from harm his hoary head. 

And listen to his lore ; 
For he of joys divine shall tell. 

That wean from earthly woe. 
And triumph o'er the mighty spell 

That chains his heart below. , 

U5 



For me no more the path invUesr^v 'ywi-g oT ^' 

Ambition loves to tread ; jr) briA 

No more I climb those toilsome heightB'>'j!dT '' 

By guileful Hope misled j 
Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more 

To Mirth's enliv**ning strain ; 
For present pleasure soon is o'er, 

And all th^ past is vain. deattie. 



THE THTlEiE WARNINGS. 
THE tree of deepest root is found 
Least willing still to quit the ground ^SiV .t£if' 
'Twas therefore said by ancient sages, ' ^^Wth 

That love of life increas'd with years , "^r f I 
So much, that in our latter stages. 
When pains grow sharp, and sickness ragei^ 

The greatest love of life appears. 
This great affection to believe. 
Which all confess, but few perceive, 
if old assertions can't prevail, ;Ai 

Be pleas'd to hear a modem tale. 

Wlien sports went roimd> and all were gay. 
On neighbour Dodson's wedding-day. 
Death call'd aside the jocund groom 
With him into another room ; 
And looking grave — '* You must,*' says he, 
" Quit your sweet bride, and come with me." 
*' With you ! and quit my Susan's side ! 
'' With you!" the hapless husband cried ; 
" Young as I am, 'tis monstrous hard ! 
'' Besides, in truth, I'm not prepar'd : 
** My thoughts on other matters go; 
*' This is my Wedding-day, you know.^ 

What more he urg'd I have not heard. 

His reasons could not well be stronger ; 
So death the poor delinquent spar'd. 

And left to live a little longer. 
Yet calling up a serious look. 
His hour-glass trembled while he spoke-— 
" Neighbour," he said, " farewell I no more 
" Shall Death disturb your mirthful liour^ ; 
*' And farther, to avoid all blame ' " 'f^'-^ 

" Of cruelty upon my name, '^ "^^-^ 



CLASSIGAL ENGLISH ^OETtiY? '^S 

« To give you time for preparatioti,<« ^ffl ±M. 
" And fit you for your future statidtly'' — ^ 
*' Three several warnings you shall have, 
" Before you're summoned to the grave, v' "^ 
" Willing for once I'll quit my prey, ;|iri J 

" And grant a kind reprieve; ^ - 

" In hopes you'll have no more to say* I '^^^■■ 
f But, when I call again this way,* -'s unh 

'^ Well pleas'd the world will leave.** 

To these conditions Iwth consented. 
And parted perfectly contented. 

What next the hero of our tale befel, 
How long he liv'd, how wise, how well. 
How roundly he pursu'd his course. 
And smok'd his pipe, and strok'd his horse. 

The willing muse shall tell : 
He chaffer'd then, he bought and sold. 
Nor once perceiv'd his growing old. 

Nor thought of Death as near : ■' \ 

His friends not false, his wife no shrew, ^^^ ^* 
Many his gains, his children few. 

He pass'd his hours in peace. 
But while he view'd his wealth increase^ > 

While thus along Life's dusty road r 

The beaten track content he trod. 
Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares, 
Uncaird, unheeded, unawares. 

Brought on his eightieth year. 
And now, one night, in musing mood. 

As all alone he sate, 
Th' unwelcome messenger of Fate 

Once more before him stood. 

Half-kill'd with anger and surprise, 
" So soon return'd !" old Dodson cries. 



So soon, d'ye call it?" Death replies; 
jrely, my friend, you're I 
^ince I was here before 



Surely, my friend, you're but in jest ! .^ ^, 



" 'Tis six-and-thirty years at least, ^^^t^£ 
'^ And you are now fourscore." *-' ' j Tt 

"So much the worse," the clown rejoin'd^; - 
'* To spare the aged would be kind : 
*' ilowever, see your search be legal; bah, ** 
" And your authority— is't regal ? ?:? lO *^ 

U6 



" Else you. are come on a fool's €rr«ni,9fii '^^ oT 
. " With but a secretar/s M^arrant. , '^r^-^r? tS 
" Beside, you promis'd me Three Warnings, ' - ^'^■ 
" Which I have look'd for nights and mommg^ y 
" But for that loss of time and ease, 
*' I can recover damages." 

'r I kno\^" cries Death, " that at the best^-ca^a 
" I seldom am a welcome guest; -3 .fcnA 

'* But don't be captious, friend, at least; '{ 

*' I little thought you'd still be able 
" To stump about your farni and stable ; 
" Your years have run to a great length ; 
" I wish you joy, tho', of your strength 1" 

" Hold," says the farmer, '^ not so fast ! 
" I have been lame these four years past" 

" And no great wonder." Death replies : 
" However, you still keep yom* eyes ; 
" And sure, to see one's loves and friends, 
«' For legs and arms would make amends." 

" Perhaps," says Dodson, " so it might, ^ , 

*' But latterly I've lost my sight.— v^ '" 

" This is a shocking tale, 'tis true ; 
" But still there's comfort left for you : 
*' Each stiives your sadness to amuse ; 
" I warrant you hear all the news." 

" Therfe's none," cries he ; " and if there were, 
' I'm grown so deaf, I could not hear," 

** Nay, then," the spectre stem lejoin'd, 
" These are unjustifiable yearnmgs ; 

" If ycni are Lame, and Dea^ and Blind, 
"You've had your Three sufficient Warnings, 
*' So come along, no more well part ;" 
He said, and touch'd him with his dart. 
And now Old Dodson, turning pale, 
^ Yields to his fate — so ends my tale. thraLE. 



THE STOEY OF LAVINIA. 

SOON as the morning trembles o'er the sky. 
And, unperceiv'd, unfolds the spreading day. 
Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand 
In fail- array; each by the lass^ he loves. 



GtASSieAL ENGLISH POETRY. 445 

To bear the rougher part, and mitigate,?i0^. 9®^3 
By nameless gentle offices, her toil. • 

At once they stoop and swell the lusty sheaves ; 
While through their cheerful band the rural talk. 
The rural scandal, and the rural jest. 
Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time, 
And steal, unfelt, the sultry hours away. 
Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks. 
And, conscious, glancing oft on every side 
His sated eye, feels his heart heave with joy. 
The gleaners spread around, and here and there. 
Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick. 
Be not too narrow, husbandmen ! but fling 
From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth. 
The liberal handful. Think, oh, grateful think. 
How good the God of harvest is to you. 
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields ; 
While these unhappy partners of your kind 
Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven. 
And ask their humble dole. The various turns 
Of fortune ponder ; that your sons may want 
What now, with hard reluctance, faint ye give. 
The lovely young Lavinia once had friends. 
And fortune smil'd deceitful on her birth : 
For, in her helpless years deprived of all. 
Of every stay, save innocence and Heaven, 
She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, 
And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd 
Among the windings of a woody vale ; ' 

By solitude and deep-surrounding shades. 
But more by bashful modesty, conceal'd. 
Together thus they shunn'd the cruel scorn 
Which Virtue, sunk to Poverty, would meet 
From giddy Passion and low-minded Pride ; 
Almost on Nature's common bounty fed. 
Like the gay birds that sung them to repose. 
Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare. 
Her form was fresher than the morning rose. 
When the dew wets its leaves ; unstain'd and pure. 
As is the lily or the mountain snow. . 

The modest virtues mingled in her eyes, 
Still on the ground, dejected, darting all 
Their humid beams into the blooming flowers; 
Or when the mournful tale her mother told. 



446 CLASSICAL miQtA^'pdMtcW 

Of what her faithless fortune promised one#/*5rit 8iki>9il 
Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy fiteeF^*^*^ ^ 
Of Evening, shone in tears. A native graee ^-^ "no' A 
Sat feir-proportion'd on her polish'd limbs^ 
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire. 
Beyond the pomp of dress : for loveliness 
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament. 
But is, when unadorn'd, adoiu'd the most. 
Thoughtless of Beauty, she was beauty's self. 
Recluse amid the close embowering woods : 
As in the hollow breast of Apennine, 
Beneath the shelter of encircling hills 
A myrtle rises, far from human eye. 
And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild ; 
So flourish'd, blooming, and unseen by all. 
The sweet Lavinia ; till at length, compell'd 
By strong necessity's supreme command. 
With smihng patience in her looks, she went 
To glean Palemon's fields. The pride of swains 
Palemon was ! the generous and the rich ! -^^^ 

Who led the rural life in all its joy * 5 

And elegance, such as Arcadian song ^^ ^^ 

Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times. 
When tyrant custom had not shackled man. 
But free to follow nature was the mode. 
He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes 
Amusing, chanc'd beside his reaper-train 
To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye ; 
Unconscious of her power, and turning quick. 
With unaffected blushes, from his gaze : 
He saw her charming, but he saw not half 
The charms her downcast modesty conceal'd. 
That very moment love and chaste desire 
Sprung in his bosom, to himself unknown ; 
Bor still the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh. 
Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn. 
Should his heart own a gleaner in the field ; 
And thus in secret to his soul he sigh'd : 
" What pity ! that so delicate a form. 
By Beauty kindled, where enlivening sense. 
And more than vulgar goodness, seem to dwell^ -J;^ 

Should be devoted to the rude embrace ^^^^°^Li 

Of some indecent clown ! She looks, niethliiki^^^^^^^ 
Of old Acasto's'line, and to my mind ' > *i4^t ^^ ml 



CLASSICAL: ENGLISH P0E318Y. Hi 

Recalls that patron df my happy li%^irCff^ tsfl hdw^O^ 
From wjboiu my liberal fortune took its tise^) "' 'T 
Now to the dust gone down, bis houses, lands, ) 

And once fair- spreading family, dissolv'd, " 

*Tis said, that in some lone obscure retreat, 
Urg'd by remembrance sad, and decent pride. 
Far from those scenes which knew their better days, '5- 
His aged widow and his daughter live, L 

Whom yet my fruitless search could never find. ^^ 

Romantic wish ! would this the daughter were T^ i;b9|l 

When strict inquiring, from herself he found > rif yfk; 
She was the same, the daughter of his friend, -1 

Of bountiful Acasto. Who can speak -^ 

The mingled passions that surpris'd his heart, % 

And through his nerves in shivering transport ran ? 
Then blaz'd his smother'd flame, avow'd, and bold ; S 
And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er, 1 

Love, gratitude, and pity, wept at once. 
Confus'd, and frighten'd at his sudden tearsj 
Her rising beauties flash'd a higher bloom, t 

As thus Palemon, passionate and just, '''f 

Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul : 

" And art thou then Acasto's dear remains ? 
She, whom my restless gratitude has sought =' 

So long in vain ? O heavens ! the very same, 1 

The soften'd image of my noble friend ; t 

Alive his every look, his every featur*;, A 

More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than spring I jsw oT 
Thou sole surviving blossom from the root n vr^l 

That nourish'd up my fortune! Say, ah, where, 
In what sequester'd desert, hast thou drawn 
The kindest aspect of delighted heaven ; 
Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair. 
Though Poverty's cold wind, and a'ushing rain, ''M. 

Beat keen and heavy on thy tender years ? '*' 

O let me now into a richer soil 

Transplant thee safe ! where vernal suns and show^FS < - 
Diffuse their warmest, largest influences lA 

And of my garden be the pride and joy. 
It ill befits thee, oh ! it ill befits # 

Acasto's daughter, his, whose open stores, 'A 

Though vast, were little to his ampler heart, '^ 

The father of a country, thus to pick ai :nu\y(: tO 

The very refuse of those harvest-fields aijaA Mo^P 



4M^ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POEtRY. 

Which from his bounteous friendship I etijo^^ '^)-l 
Then throw that shameful pittance from th3F>^iSd/ 
But ill apply'd to such a rugged task ; ^^ STiicpS 
The fields, the master, all, my fair ! are thifife,^*^ ^^^ 
If to the various blessings v/hich thy house^^'^ ?* «9riT 
Has on me lavish'd, thou wilt add that bliss, - ^-;^^- 
That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee !** - * 
Here ceas'd the youth : yet still his speaking teye 
Express'd the sacred triumph of his soul. 
With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love. 
Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd. 
Nor waited he reply. W^on by the charm 
Of goodness in*esistible, and all 
In sweet disorder lost, she blush'd consent. 
The news immediate to her mother brought; 
While, pierc'd with anxious thought, she pin'd away 
The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate ; 
Amaz'd, and scarce believing what she heard, 
Joy seiz'd her witlier'd veins, and one bright gleam 
Of setting life shone on her evening hours : 
Not less enraptur'd than the happy pair ; 
Who flourish'd long in tender bliss, and rear'd 
A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves. 
And good, the grace of all the country round. 

THOMSON-. 



L ALLEGRO. 



HENCE loathed Melancholy, 

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, 

In Stygian cave forlorn, 

'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ; 

Find out some uncouth cell. 

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wing?. 

And the night-raven sings ; 

There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks. 

As ragged as thy locks. 

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 
" But come, thou goddess fair and free, 
In heaven yclep'd Euphrosyne, 
And by men, heart-easing Mirth, 
Whom lovely Venus, at a birth; 

With two sister Graces more. i* ' HW^ * 

To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore ; ^^^^ ^°^^^ ' 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 440 

Or whether (as some sages sing) J„ 

The irolic. wind that breathes the spring, J 

2ephyr with Aurora playing, ^. 

As he met her once a may ing, 1^ 

There on beds of violets blue, ^| 

And fresh blown-roses wash'd in dew, ,p 

Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair. 
So buxom, blithe, and debonair. : V 

Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Ty 

Just, and youthful Jollity, ^^ 

Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, '.J 

Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, t 

Such as hang on Hebe's cheek. 
And love to live in dimple sleek ; 
Sport that wrinkled Care derides. 
And Laughter holding both his sides. 
Come and trip it as you go 

On the light fantastic toe ; "^l" 

And in thy right-hand lead with thee 
The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty : 
And, if I give thee honour due. 
Mirth, admit me of thy crew. 
To live with her, and live with thee, 
In unreproved pleasures free : 
To hear the lark begin his flight. 
And singing startle the dull night. 
From his watch-tow'r in the skies. 
Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; _,„ ^ .. 

Then to come, in spite of sorrow, 5 

And at my window bid good-morrow, "^ 

Thro' the sweet-briar, or the vine. 
Or the Jwisted eglantine : 
While tne cock with lively din 
Scatters the rear of darkness thin. 
And to the stack, or the bam door. 
Stoutly struts his dames before ; 
Oft listening how the hounds and horn 
Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn. 
From the side of some hoar hill. 
Thro' the high wood echoing shrill : 
Sometimes walking not unseen IW 

By hedge- row elms, on hillocks green, i "W 

Right against the eastern gate, *^'^''^ .^: 

Where the great sun begins his state, > :..^:r-^'^^^^ 



450 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY,; 

Rob'd in fiames^ and amber light, ^^rfaff^l 
The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; 
While the ploughman near at hand 
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land. 
And the milk-maid singeth blithe. 
And the mower whets his sithe. 
And every shepherd tells his tale, 
Under the hawthorn in the dale. 

Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
W^hilst the landscape round it measures; 
Russet lawns, and fallows grey. 
Where the nibbling flocks do stray; 
Mountains on whose barren breast 
The labouring clouds do often rest; 
Meadows trim with daisies pied : 
Shallow brooks, and rivers wide: 
Towers and battlements it sees 
Bosom'd high in tufted trees. 
Where perhaps some beauty lies, 
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 

Hard by a cottage-chimney smokes, 
From betwixt two aged oaks. 
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met. 
Are at their savoury dinner set 
Of herbs, and other country-messes. 
Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses ; 
And then in haste her bower she leaves. 
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves ; 
Or, if the earlier season lead. 
To the tann'd haycock in the mead. 

Sometimes, with secure delight. 
The upland hamlets will invite. 
When the merry bells ring round^ 
And the jocund rebecks sound 
To many a j^outh and many a maid. 
Dancing in the chequer'd shade ; 
And young and old came forth to play 
On a sunshine holiday. 
Till the livelong daylight fail ; 
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale. 
With stories told of many a feat> 
How Fairy Mab the junkets eat ; 
She was pinch'd, and puU'd, she said, 
And he by friar's lantern led J 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 451 

Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat H 

To earn his cream-bowl duly set, J 

When in one night, ere glimpse of mom. 
His shadowy flail had thresh'd the com. 
That ten day-lab'rers could not end. 
Then lays him down the lubber fiend. 
And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length. 
Basks at the fire his hairy strength ; 
And cropful out of doors he flings 
Ere the first cock his matin rings. 
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep. 
By whispering winds soonJuU'd to sleep. 

Tow'red cities please us then. 
And the busy hum of men. 
Where throngs of knights, and barons bold. 
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold. 
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
Rain influence, and judge the prize 
Of wit or arms, while both contend 
To win her grace whom all commend. 
There let Hymen oft appear 
In safiron robe, with taper clear, 
And pomp, and feast, and revelry. 
With mask and antique pageantry. 
Such sights as youthful poets dream 
On summer eves by haunted stream. 
Then to the well- trod stage anon, 
If Johnson's learned sock be on, 
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child. 
Warble his native wood-notes wild. 

And ever against eating cares. 
Lap me in soft Lydian airs. 
Married to immortal verse. 
Such as the melting soul may pierce 
In notes, with many a winding bout 
Of hnked sweetness long drawn out. 
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning. 
The melting voice thro' mazes running ; 
Untwisting all the chains that tie 
The hidden soul of Harmony ; 
That Orpheus's self may heave his head 
From golden slumbers on a bed 
Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear 
Such strains as would have won the ear 



452 CLASSrCAI^ E N&L I SH POETRY. 

Of Pluto, to have quite set free 
His half-regain'd Eurydice. 

These delights, if thou canst give, 
Mirth, -with thee I mean to live. milton. 



IL PENSEROSO. 

HENCE vain deluding joys, 

The brood of Folly, without father bred ! 

How little you bested. 

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys 1 
Dwell in some idle brain ; 
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess. 
As thick and numberless 

As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, _ 
Or likest hovering dreams. 

The fickle pensioners of Morpheus* train. j- 
But hail, thou goddess, sage and holy, 3 

Hail divinest Melancholy, ; 

Whose saintly visage is too bright 
To hit the sense of human sight; 
And therefore to our weaker view 
O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue; 
Black, but such as in esteem. 
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem ; 
Or that starr'd Ethiope queen that strove 
To set her beauty's praise above 
The sea- nymphs, and their pow'rs offended : 
Yet thou, art higher far descended. 
Thee, bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore. 
To solitary Saturn bore ; 
His daughter she (in Saturn's reign 
Such mixture was not held a stain) : 
Oft, in glimmering bowers and glades. 
He met her, and in secret shades 
Of woody Ida's inmost grove. 
While yet there was no fear of Jove. 

Come, pensive nun, devout and pure. 
Sober, stedfast, and demure. 

All in a robe of darkest grain, uux^^ 

Flowing with majestic train, -arfW 

And sable stole of cypress-lawn, ^ui liasoT - 

Over thy decent shoulders draw^n. ^1 r*^^ 



CLASSICAL. ENGLISH POETRY. >' 45l 

Come, but keep thy wonted state. 

With even step, and musing gait. 

And looks commercing with the skies. 

Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : 

There held in holy passion still. 

Forget thyself to marble, till 

With a sad leaden downward cast. 

Thou fix them on the earth as fast ; . . 

And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, ;f 

Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, '^^^ 

And hears the Muses in a ring, /oht 

Aye round about Jove's altar sing ; 

And add to these retired Leisure, 

That in trim gardens takes his pleasure. 

But first, and chiefest, with thee bring 

Him that yon soars on golden wing. 

Guiding the fiery- wheeled throne. 

The cherub Contemplation : 

And the mute silence hist along, 

'Less Philomel will deign a song 

In her sweetest, saddest plight. 

Smoothing the rugged brow of Night ; 

While Cynthia checks her dragon-yoke. 

Gently o'er th' accustom'd oak. 

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly. 
Most musical, most melancholy ! ' 

Thee, chantress, oft the woods among i 

I woo, to hear thy ev'ning song : % 

And missing thee, I walk unseen 
On the dry smooth-shaven green, :; 

To behold the wand'ring moon, t,- 

Riding near her highest noon, % 

Like one that had been led astray ;, 

Thro* the heav'ns' wide pathless way ; /J 

And oft, as if her head she bow'd, ij 

Stooping thro' a fleecy cloud. ' > 

Oft on a plat of rising ground, ""^ 

X hear the far-off curfew sound. 

Over some wide-water'd shore, . j, 

Swinging slow with sullen roar. ;:'^ 

Or if the air will not permit, '.^ 

Some still removed place will fit, \ 

Where glowing embers thro' the room ,f ^ 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom ; ;*ii WfU 



454 ctASsicM^^isMs^i^iifiM^ 

Far from aU resort of mirtV^^ ^^^*^'^^H^!J(| 
Save the cricket on the hearth, '"'^ ? q 
Or the bellman's drowsy charm, ! !^ r ^^ 
To bless the doors from nightly barm. 

Or let my lamp, at midnight hour. 
Be seen in some high lonely tow'r. 
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, 
With thrice-great Hermes ; or unsphere 
The spirit of Plato, to unfold 
What worlds, or what vast regions, hold 
The immortal mind that hath forsook 
Her mansion in this fleslily nook : 
And of those demons that are found 
In fire, air, flood, or under ground, 
Wliose power hath a true consent 
With planet, or with element. 

Sometimes let gorgeous Tragedy 
In sceptred pall come sweeping by, 
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line. 
Or the tale of Troy divine. 
Or what (tho' rare) of later age 
Ennobled hath tlie buskin'd stage. 

But, O sad virgin, that thy power 
Might raise Musaeus from his bower; 
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 
Such notes as, warbled to the string. 
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek. 
And made hell grant what love did seek. 
Or call up him that left half- told 
The story of Cambuscan bold. 
Of Camball, and of Algarsife 
And who had Canace to wife. 
That own'd the virtuous ring and glass. 
And of the wond'rous horse of brass. 
On which the Tartar king did ride ; 
And if aught else great bards beside 
In sage and solemn tunes have sung, 
Of tourneys and of trophies hung, 
Of forests and enchantments drear. 
Where more is meant than meets the ear. 

Thus, night, oft see me in thy pale career. 
Till civil-suited morn appear ; 
Not trick'd and frounc'd as she was wont , 
With the Attic boy to hunt, ' ' 



Cl.ASSICALr*NGl*ISH POETRY. 45$ 

But kerchief d in a comely cloudy 
While rocking winds are piping loud. 
Or usher'd with a show'r -still, 
When the gust hath blown his fill. 
Ending on the rustling leaves. 
With minute drops from off the eaves. 

And when the sun begins to fling 
His flaring beams, me. Goddess, bring 
To arched walks of twilight groves, 
And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves 
Of pine, or monumental oak, 
Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke. 
Was never heard the nymphs to daunt. 
Or fright them from their hallo w'd haunt. 
There in close covert by some brook. 
Where no profaner eye may look. 
Hide me from day's garish eye. 
While the bee with honey'd thigh. 
That at her flow'ry work doth sing, 
And the waters murmuring, 
With such concert as they keep. 
Entice the dewy-feather'd sleep : 
And let some strange mysterious dream 
Wave at his wings in airy stream 
Of lively portraiture displayed. 
Softly on my eye-lids laid. 
And as I wake sweet music breathe. 
Above, about, or underneath. 
Sent by some spirit to mortals good. 
Or th' unseen Genius of the wood. 

But let my due feet never fail 
To walk the studious cloisters pale ; 
And love the high imbowed roof. 
With antique pillars massy-proof. 
And storied windows richly dight, 
Casting a dim religious light. 
There let the pealing organ blow 
To the full-voic'd quire below. 
In service high, and anthems clear, 
As may with sweetness, thro' mine ear. 
Dissolve me into ecstasies. 
And bring all heav'n before mine eyes. 

And may at last Jijy weary age 
Find out the peaceful hermitage. 



456 CL ASSr CAL ENCfLISH PO ET R Y. 

The hairy gown and mossy cell. 
Where I may sit and rightly spell 
Of ev'ry star that heav'n doth shew, 
And every herb that sips the dew : 
Till old experience do attain 
To something like prophetic strain. 

These pleasures, Melancholy, give. 
And I with thee will choose to live. milton. 



WAR. 



GREAT princes have great playthings. Some have 

played 
At hewing mountains into men, and some 
At building human wonders mountain-high. 
Some have amused the dull, sad years of life, 
(Life spent in indolence, and therefore sad) 
With schemes of monumental fame ; and sought 
By pyramids and mausolean pomp. 
Short-lived themselves, to immortalize their bones. 
Some seek diversion in the tented field. 
And make the sorrows of mankind their sport. 
But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise, 
Kings would not play at. Nations would do well 
To extort their truncheons from the puny hands 
or heroes, whose infirm and baby minds 
Are gratified with mischief; and who spoil. 
Because men suffer it, their toy the world. 
But violence can never longer sleep 
Than human passions please. In every heart 
Are sown the sparks, that kindle fiery war ; 
Occasion needs but fan them, and tbey blaze. 
Cain had already shed a brother's blood : 
The deluge wash'd it out ; but left unquench'd 
The seeds of murder in the breast of man. 
Soon by a righteous judgment in the line 
Of his descending progeny was found 
The first artificer of death; the shrewd 
Contriver, who first sweated at the forge. 
And forced the blunt and yet unbloodied steel 
To a keen edge, and made it bright for war. 
Him, Tubal nam'd, the Vulcan of old times. 
The sword and falchion their inventor claim : 



CLASSICAL EIVGLISH POETIiy. 4571^1 

And the first smith was the first murderer's son. 

His art surviv'd the waters ; and ere long, ; 

When man was multiplied and spread abroad -Q 

In tribes and clans^ and had begun to call 

These meadows and tliat range of hills his own. 

The tasted sweets of property begat 

Desire of more ; and industry m some 

To improve and cultivate their just demesne^ 

Made others covet what they saw so fair. 

Thus war began on eaith : these fought for spoil. 

And those in self-defence. Savage at first 

The onset, and irregular. At length 

One eminent above the rest for strength. 

For stratagem, for courage, or for all. 

Was cho'jen leader ; him they sei'v'd in war. 

And him in peace, for sake of warlike deeds 

Reverenc'd no less. Who could with him compare ? 

Or who so worthy to control themselves 

As he, whose prowess had subdu'd their foes ? 

Thus war, affording field for the display 

Of virtue, made one chief, whom times of peace. 

Which have their exigencies too, and call 

For skill in government, at length made king. 

King was a name too proud for man to wear 

With modesty and meekness ; and the crown, 

So dazzling in their eyes, who set it on. 

Was sure to intoxicate the brows it bound* 

Inflated and astrut with self-conceit. 

He gulphs the windy diet ; and ere long. 

Adopting their mistake, profoundly thinks 

The world was made in vain, if not for him. 

Thenceforth they are his cattle ; drudges, born 

To bear his burdens, drawing in his gears. 

And sweating in his service, his caprice 

Becomes the soul that animates them all. 

He deems a thousand, or ten thousand lives. 

Spent in the purchase of renown for him. 

An easy reckoning ; and they think the same. 

Thus kings were first invented, and thus kings 

Were burnish'd into heroes, and became 

The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp ; 

Storks among frogs, that have but croak'd and dy'd. 

But is it fit, or can it bear the shock 

Of rational discussion, that a man, 



458 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

Compounded and made up like other men,^ -^ , ^ 

Of elements tumultuous^ in whom lust * . ri^ 

And folly in as ample measure meet^ A y 

As in the bosoms of the slaves he rules, j* rp 

Should be a despot absolute, and boast "'-■^■c^ ^f 

Himself the only freeman of his land ? 

Should, when he pleases, and on whom he will. 

Wage war, with any or with no pretence 

Of provocation given, or wrong sustain'd. 

And force the beggarly last doit by means, 

That his own humour dictates, from the clutch 

Of poverty, that thus he may procure 

His thousands, weary of penurious life, 

A splendid opportunity to die ? cowper. 



CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. 

I WOULD not enter on my list of friends, 

(Tho' grac'd with polish'd manners and fine sense, 

ifet wanting sensibility,) the man 

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 

An inadvertent step may crush the snail. 

That crawls at evening in the public path ; 

But he that has humanity, forewarn'd. 

Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 

The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight. 

And charg'd perhaps with venom, that intrudes 

A visitor unwelcome into scenes 

Sacred to neatness and repose, th' alcove. 

The chamber, or refectory, may die : 

A necessary act incurs no blame. 

Not so, when held within their proper bounds. 

And guiltless of offence, they range the air. 

Or take their pastime in the spacious field : 

There they are privileg'd, And he that hunts 

Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong ; 

Disturbs th* economy of Nature's realm. 

Who, when she form'd, designed them an abode. 

The sum is this ; if man's convenience, health. 

Or safety, interfere, his rights and claims 

Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. 

Else they are all — the meanest things that are. 

As free to live, and to enjoy that life. 



^^^iCAt ENGLISH POETRY. 459 

As God was free to form them at the first. 

Who, in his sov'reign wisdom, made them all. 

Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons 

To love it too. The spring-time of our years 

Is soon dishonour'd and defil'd, in most. 

By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 

To check them. But, alas ! none sooner shoots. 

If unrestrain'd, into luxuriant growth. 

Than cruelty, most dev'lish of them alj. 

Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule 

And righteous limitation of its act. 

By which Heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man : 

And he that shows none, being ripe in years, 

And conscious of the outrage he commits. 

Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn, cowper. 



THE PASSIONS. 

WHEN Music, heavenly Maid ! was young, 
While yet in early Greece she sung. 
The Passions oft, to hear her shell, 
Throng'd around her magic cell ; 
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting. 
Possessed beyond the Muse's painting ; 
By turns they felt the glowing mind 
Disturb'd, delighted, rais'd, refin'd ; 
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fir'd, 
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspir'd. 
From the supporting myrtles round 
They snatch'd her instruments of sound ; 
And as they oft had heard apart 
Sweet lessons of her forceful art. 
Each, for madness rul'd the hour. 
Would prove his own expressive power. 

First Fear his hand, its skill to try, 
Amid the chords, bewilder'd laid ; 
And back recoil'd, he knew not why, 
Ev'n at the sound himself had made. 

Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire, 
In lightnings own'd his secret stings ; 
In one rude clash he struck the lyre. 
And swept with hurry'd hand the strings. 



4>60 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 

With woeful measures wan Despair- 
Low sullen sounds his grief beguil'd ; ^jj^ywi 
A solemn, strange, and mingled air ; ,,,^,j 
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. f 

But thou, O Hope ! with eyes so fair, 

"What was thy delighted measure ? 

Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure. 
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail. 

Still would her touch the strain prolong ; ^^' «,«|^ 

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, "j^fip 
She call'd on Echo still thro* all the song; 

And where her sweetest theme she chose, 
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; 
And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair : 
And longer had she sung—But with a frown 

Revenge impatient rose; 
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down. 

And, with a withering look. 

The war-denouncing trumpet took. 

And blew a blast so loud and dread, 
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe ; 

And ever and anon he beat 

The double drum with furious heat ; 
And though sometimes, each dreary pause between. 

Dejected Pity at his side 

Her soul-subduing voice apply'd. 
Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien, 
W^hile each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from 
his head. 

Thy numbers. Jealousy, to nought were fix'd ; 

Sad proof of thy distressful state ; 
Of dilf 'ring themes the veering song was mix'd. 
And now it courted Love, now raving cali'd on Hate. 

With eyes uprais'd, as one inspir'd. 

Pale Melancholy sat retir'd. 

And from her wild sequester'd seat. 

In notes by distance made more sweet, 
Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul ; 

And clashing soft from rocks around. 

Bubbling runnels join'd the sound ; 
Thro' glades and glooms the mingled measure stole : 



Or o'er some haunted streams with fond delay, 
Round a holy calm diffusing. 
Love of peace and lonely musing. 
In hollow murmurs dy'd away. 

But, Oh ! how alter'd was its sprightly tone, 

When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue. 
Her bow across her shoulder flung. 
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew. 
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung. 

The Hunter's call, to Fawn and Dryad known ; 

The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste-ey'd queen. 
Satyrs and sylvan boys, were seen 
Peeping from forth their alleys green ; 
Brown exercise rejoic'd to hear. 

And Sport leap'd up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. 

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial : 

He, with viny crown advancing. 
First to tlie lively pipe his hand address'd ; 
, But soon he saw the brisk, awakening viol. 
V/hose sweet entrancing voice he lov'd the best. 

They would have thought, who heard the strain. 
They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids. 

Amidst the festal sounding shades. 

To some unweary'd minstrel dancing : 
While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings. 
Love fram'd with Mirth, a gay fantastic round. 
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound : 

And he, amidst his frolic play. 
As if he would the charming air repay, . 
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings. 

O Music ! sphere-descended maid. 
Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid. 
Why, Goddess ! why, to us deny'd, 
Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside ? 
As in that lov'd Athenian bow'r. 
You learn an all-commanding pow'r ; 
Thy mimic soul, O nymph endear'd. 
Can well recall what then it heard. 
Where is thy native simple heart. 
Devote to virtue, fancy, art ? 
Arise, as in that elder time. 
Warm, energic,' chaste, sublime ! 

X3 



i6^ CLASSICAL ENg£iSH' POETRY. 

Thy wonders in that godlike age ^^^^ 

Fill thy recording Sister s page — ,„; , .q 

'Tis said, and I believe the tale, - 4 [ ^ 

Thy humblest reed could more prevail, ;'j^ . a 

Had more of strength, diviner rage, \ - 

Than all which chaims this laggard age ; 

Ev'n all at once together found, 

Cecilia's mingled world of sound. 

O 1 bid your vain endeavours cease. 

Revive the just designs of Greece ; 

Return in sJl thy simple state ; 

Confirm the tales her sons relate. coLUNS. 

««..^.««_ uw siIT 



THE FOUR AGES OF THE WORLD. 

THE Golden Age was first : when man, yet new,' 

No rule but incorrupted Reason knew ; 

And, with a native bent, did good pursue. 

Unforc'd by punishment, unaw'd by fear. 

His words were simple, and his soul sincere : 

Needless was written law, where none opprest ; 

Hie law of man was written in his breast : 

No suppliant crowds before the Judge appear'd ; 

Nor court erected yet, nor cause was heard; 

But all was safe, for conscience was their guard. 

The mountain-trees in distant prospect please. 

Ere yet the pine descended to the seas : 

Ere sails were spread, new oceans to explore ; 

And happy mortals, unconcern'd for more, 

Confin'd tiheir wishes to their native shore. 

No walls were yet, nor fence, nor moat, nor mound ; 

Nor drum was heard, nor trumpet's angry sound : 

Nor swords were forg'd ; but, void of care and crime. 

The soft creation slept away their time. 

The teeming earth, yet guiltless of the plough. 

And unprovoked, did fruitful stores allow : 

Content with food which Nature freely bred. 

On wildings and on strawberries they fed ; , ^'j^r 

Cornels and bramble-berries gave the rest, " . 

And falling acorns furnish'd out a feast. 

The flowers unsown in fields and meadows reign'd ; 

And western winds immortal Spring maintaun'd. 



.CLASSICAI. ENGLISH PQEXaY.. 46S 

In following years the bearded com ensu'd 
From earth,, unask'd, nor was that earth renew'd. 
From veins ,of valleys milk and nectar broke ; 
And honey sweated from the pores of oak. 
But when good Saturn, banish'd from above. 
Was driven to hell, the world was under Jove, 
Succeeding times a Silver Age behold. 
Excelling brass^ but more excell'd by gold. 
Then Summer, Autumn, Winter did appear. 
And Spring was but a season of the year. 
The sun his annual course obliquely made. 
Good days contracted, or enlarged the bad. 
Then air with sultry heats began to glow. 
The wings of winds were clogg'd with ice and snow ; 
And shivering mortals, into houses driven. 
Sought shelter from th* inclemency of heav'n. 
Those houses, then, were caves, or homely sheds, ?y^f?rj% 
With twining osiers fenc'd, and moss their beds. "'^\/^ 
Then ploughs for seed, the fruitful fuiTows broke, ,'.'^ 
And oxen labour'd first beneath the yoke. ?| 

To this next came in course the Brazen Age :^j- 

A warlike offspring, prompt to bloody rage ;|^ 

Not impious yet m 

Hard steel succeeded then ; ^ 

And stubborn as the metal were the men. r^ 

Truth, Modesty, and Shame, the world forsook : ^^j 

Fraud, Avarice, and Force, their places took. j* 

Then sails were spread to every wind that blew, ;*5^ 
Raw were the sailors, and the depths were new : /^; 
Trees rudely hoUow'd, did the waves sustain ; J 

Ere ships in triumph plow'd the wat'ry plain : ^ 

Then land-marks limited to each his right ; r^^ 

For all before was common as the light ^^ 

Nor was the ground alone requir'd to bear ,^^ ^^,^ 

Her annual income to the crooked share ; ^^,^ ^Jj*^ 

But greedy mortals, rummaging her store, ^ l^T 

Digg'd from her entrails first the precious ore : ' . 7*^4. 
Which next to hell the prudent god had laid ; " p, 

And that alluring ill to sight display'd. S'X 

Thus cursed steel, and more accursed gold, Z^ 

Gave Mischief birth, and made that mischief bold ; % 
And double death did wretched man invade. 
By steel assaulted, and by gold betr^jdL , / 



X4 



S-^* CLASSICAL EJfGLISH POETRY. 

Now (brandish'd weapons glittering in their hands) 
Mankind is broken loose from moral bands; 
Nor rights of hospitality remain ; Tr73;CI 

The guest, by him who harbour'd him, is slain : 
The son-in-law pursues the father's life : -■ 

The wife her husband murders, he the wife. 
The step-dame poison for the son prepares. 
The son inquires into his father's years. 
Faith flies, and Piety in exile mourns ; 
And Justice, here opprest, to Heaven returns. 

DRYDEN. 



ENGLISH LOYALTY. 



-WE love 



The king, who loves the law, respects his bounds. 

And reigns content with them : him we serve 

Freely and with delight, who leaves us free : 

But recollecting still that he is man. 

We trust him not too far. King though he be. 

And king in England too, he may be weak. 

And vain enough to be ambitious still ; 

May exercise amiss his proper powers. 

Or covet more than freemen choose to grant : 

Beyond that mark is treason ! He is our's. 

To administer, to guard, to adorn, the state ; 

But not to warp or change it. We are his 

To serve him nobly in the common cause. 

True to the death, but not to be his slaves. 

Mark now the difference, ye that boast your love 

Of kings, between your loyalty and our's. 

We love the man, the paltry pageant you : 

We the chief patron of the commonwealth. 

You the regardless author of its woes; 

We for the sake of liberty a king. 

You chains and bondage for a tyrant's sake. 

Our love is principle, and has its root 

In reason, is judicious, manly, free ; 

Your*s, a blind instinct, crouches to the rod. 

And licks the foot that treads it in the dust. 

COWPEB, 

Ijj^^d lie 



CLASSIGAl. ; ENGLISH POETEY. i§5 

{abfiBii thdim %im^ml-%moqmw iydarbnfi^d) wo/I^ 

DEEP silence reign'd, and dewy Night f^^ ^^^^ 

Her silver vestment wore ; '^^^ .^^.j-J 

The western gale breath'd calm delight, "I* vfX 

And busy day was o'er : ;^^ 

To hail Reilection's hour I rose, , -f^ J 

Each throbbing care at rest; ;t iJmi 
For sacred Peace in mild repose 
c Had luird my anxious breast. 

The breezy mount, the misty vale. 

Alternately I stray'd ; 
The Gothic spire, the lonely cell. 

My wandering eye surveyed : ^ 

t 
Till, where the trembling beams of night ^^' 

O'er limpid currents play'd. 
Meandering — fix'd my roving sight 

On. deep Retirement's shade, , J^, 

The unambitious dome, conceal'd, '^-^'- 

Fear'd no intrusive foes ; ^ 

From deep-embowering trees reveal'd 
The seat of calm repose. 

'Twas Sophron's grove, an aged sire. 

Who, vers'd in Wisdom's lore, 41 

Now tun'd his consecrated lyre. 

To close the silent hour. 



fir 



The hallo w'd strain inflam'd my breast, 

I gain'd the rustic cell ; — 
The courteous father bless'd his guest, .11 

Then gave th' instructive tale. , * ^:i 

° ^-?£l^ 1101 

^f How false the aim of erring life ! tel sY/ 

*' How fruitless the employ, .b yoY 

" That treads the pompous maze of strife ^-O 

" In quest of solid joy I : nl 

" Ihe plumy tribes unceasmg roam, /f> j.r^^ 

.^_*' Each verdant bough survey]* 
"^ But fix at last their leafy home, 
" Where silence woos their stay : 

X5 



46§ CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETHIE*.. 

" Where no alarming hinds invade>b jt=! sisdT 

" No fear their peace destroys ; 
** Remote in the sequester'd shade, O 

" They rear their callow joys. «vitw> £d. 

" Thus restless Nature loves to ranged ' ' "T 

" Thro' life's gay scenes to rove ; 
" Till Reason prompts the happier change^ {S 

" To Contemplation's grove ! A 

" When Fortune smil'd, when Pleasure woo'd 

" How indolently gay, 
" Life's transitory stream I view'd 

" Unheeded haste away ! 

" The gay delusive dream once o'er, , ,1= 

" Calm Reason's thought arise ; 
" Obey the monitorial power, 

" That whisper'd — ' Now be wise ! ' 

*' This silent grove my search surveyed, 
" Where peace displays her charms : 

'* How free Contentment's humble shade 
" From Fortune's wild alaniis ! 

" How free from each fantastic strife, 

'* Untroubled and serene, 
" I wait the closing hour of life, 

*' To leave its empty scene : 

^* For tides of bliss, that boundless roll 

" Around th' Eternal throne, 
" Shall waft the persevering soul i i 9/ 

" To joys on earth unknown ! 

" But lo ! the fading stars declare, 

" The eastern herald blows 
'* The hour of rosy morn is near, 

*' And Nature claims repose 1'* 

I sigh'd, and thought it soon to part 

From Wisdom's ivy'd cell ; 
How ill my sympathizing heart 

Could bid the sage, farewell. 

For wealth, be smiling Peace my share ! 

With Friendship's generous love ; 
And, lost to each ambitious care. 

Be mine the flowery grove I 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 4i6T 

There studious thought would wear the d^^^ 

In each instructive page ; 
Or happier speed the hours away 

In converse with the sage. 

Taught by the awful voice of Truth, 

Life's syren snares to fly. 
By Reason's chart conduct my youth. 

And Uke my Sophron die I Cunningham. 



THE PRAISE OF PHILOSOPHY. 

BUT now let other themes our care engage ; 
For lo, with modest yet majestic grace. 
To curb Imagination's lawless rage. 
And from within the cherish'd heart to brae?. 
Philosophy appears. The gloomy race 
By Indolence and moping Fancy bred. 
Fear, Discontent, Solicitude, give place, ^urxT '^■ 
And Hope and Courage brighten in their stead. 
While on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed. 

Then waken from long lethargy to life 
The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought | 
Then jarring appetites forego their strife, 
A strife by ignorance to madness wrought ; 
Pleasure by savage man is deai'ly bought 
With fell revenge, lust that defies control. 
With gluttony and death. The mind untaught 
Is a dark waste, where fiends and tempests ho\vi ; 
As Phoebus to the world, is Science to the souL, 

And Reason now thro' Number, Time, and Space 
Darts the keen lustre of her serious eye. 
And learns, from facts compar'd, the laws to tmce. 
Whose long progression leads to Deity. 
Can mortal strength presume to soar so high ! _ 
Can mortal sight, so oft bedirnm'd with tear^j - 
Such glory bear ! — for lo ! the shadows fly ' ^^ 
From Nature's face; Confusion disappears, .''"-^ 
And Order charms the eye, and Harmony the ears. 

In the deep windings of the ^ove, no more ^^ 
The hag obscene, and grissly phantom dwell ; , 
Nor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar ' 
Of winds, is heard the angry spirit's yell ; " 

X6 



4p8 CLASSICAL ENGLISH f»OETfe%^- 

No wizard mutters the tremendous spell/^ aasi.TOi^ 



Nor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon :' ,-,. 



Nor bids the noise of drums and trumpets sweM,"^. 
To ease of fancied pangs the labouring moon. 
Or chase the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon. 

Many a long-lingering year, in lonely isle, i;^ ^T^dW 
Stunn'd with th' eternal turbulence of waves, -fl*il 
Xo ! with dim eyes, that never learn'd to smile^s woH 
And trembling hands, the famish'd native craves 
Of Heav'n his wretched fare : shivering in caves. 
Or scorch'd on rocks, he pines from day to day : 
But Science gives the word ; and lo ! he brakes 
The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray ; 
And to a happier land wafts merrily away. 

And ev'n where Nature loads the teeming plain 
With the full pomp of vegetable store, - 

Her bounty unimprov'd, is deadly bane : i/^qsj'i 

Dark woods, and rankling wilds, from shore to shoFe, 
Stretch their enormous gloom ; which to explore 
Ev'n Fancy trembles in her sprightless mood ; 
For there, each eye-ball gleams with lust of gore. 
Nestles each murderous, and each monstrous brood. 
Plague lurks in every shade, and streams from every flood. 

'Twas from Philosophy man learn'd to tame 
The soil by plenty to intemperance fed, 
Lo! from the echoing axe, and thundering flame. 
Poison and plague and yelling rage are fled. 
The waters, bursting from their slimy bed. 
Bring health and melody to every vale : 
And from the breezy main, and mountain's hea^^iiigg 
Ceres and Flora to the sunny dale. 
To fan their glowing charms, invite the flutt'rijig gale. 

What dire necessities on every hand 
Our heart, our strength, our fortitude, require ! 
Of foes intestine what a numerous band ., 
Against this little throb of life conspire ! 
Yet Science can elude their fatal ire 
A while, and turn aside death's levell'd dart, 
Soothe the sharp pang, allay the fever's fire. 
And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the h€ii^^.^. 
And yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart, i'^f^''*^^''* 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, ^Cst- 

Nor less to regulate man's moral frame ^ 

Science exerts her all-composing sway. 
Flutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame^ 
Or pines to Indolence and Spleen a prey, - 

Gr Avarice, a fiend more fierce than they ? '*^, 

Flee to the shade of Academus' Grove ; -?j- 

Where cares molest not, discord melts away 1^ 

In harmony, and the pure passions prove [[Love. 

How sweet the words of truth breath'd from the lips of 

What cannot art and industry perform, Cr^ 

When Science plans the progress of their toil 1 O 
They smile at penury, disease, and storm ; 3, 

And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil. T 

When tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil : lA 
A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage 
Order transforms to anarchy and spoil, 
Deep-vers'd in man the philosophic Sage 
Prepares with lenient hand their phrenzy to assxiage. 

'Tis he alone, whose comprehensive mind. 
From situation, temper, soil, and clime, 
Explor'd, a nation's various powers can bind. 
And various orders, in one form sublime 
Of polity, that midst the wrecks of time 
Secure shall lift its head on high, nor fear 
Th' assault of foreign or domestic crime. 
While public faith, and public love sincere. 
And Industry and Law maintain their sway severe. 

BEATTIE. 



DESCRIPTION OF A PARISH POOR-HOUSE. 

BEHOLD yon house that holds the parish poor, '' 

Whose walls of mud scarce bear the broken door ! 
There, where the putrid vapours flagging play, , , ,^ 

And the dull wheel hums doleful thro' the day ; * 1^ 
There children dwell who know no parents' care ; '^ 
Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there ; 
Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed. 
Forsaken wives, and mothers never wed ; 
Dejected widows with unheeded tears. 
And crippled age with more than childhood fears ; 
The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they I 
The moping idiot, and the madman gay. 



470 CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY, 

Here, too, the sick their final doom receive, .T.^rf* „, -- 
Here brought, amid the scenes of grief, to grieve; 
Where the loud groans from some sad chamber flow, 
Mix'd with the clamours of the crowd below; 
Here sorrowing they each kindred sorro\if^§$^,^^.^^„^^^. 
And the cold charities of man to man : .r^^ |jj-£g nff^o^ gj-j" 
Whose laws indeed for ruin'd age provide, 
And strong compulsion plucks the scrap from pride : 
But still that scrap is bought with many a sigh. 
And pride embitters what it can't deny. aeiijo^ 

ri ,1 „ . ^^ hnA 

Say, ye oppress d by some fantastic woes, r o^jrfX nO 
Some jarring nerve that baffles your repose ; ? -V^n p^j| 
Who press the downy couch, while slaves advance 
With timid eye, to read the distant glance ; 
Who with sad pray'rs the weary doctor tease 
To name the nameless ever-new disease ; 
Who with mock-patience dire complaints endure. 
Which real pain, and that alone can cure ; 
How v/ould you bear in real pain to lie, - - 

Despis'd, neglected, left alone to die ? ^sfiT ^ 

How would you bear to draw your latest breath. 
Where all that's wretched paves the way for death ? • 

Such is that room which one rude beam divides. 
And naked rafters form the sloping sides ; 
Where the vile bands that bind the thatch are seen. 
And lath and mud are all that lie between ; 
Save one dull pane, that, coarsely patch'd, gives way; 
To the rude tempest, yet excludes the day : 
Here, on a matted flock, with dust o'erspread. 
The drooping wretch reclines his languid head. 
For him no hand the cordial cup applies. 
Nor wipes the tear that stagnates in his eyes ; 
No friends with soft discourse his pain beguile. 
Nor promise hope till sickness wears a smile, crab be. 



THE PROGRESS OF POESY, 

AWAKE, ^olian lyre, awake. 
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. 
From Helicon's harmonious springs 

A thousand rills their mazy progress take : 
The laughing flowers that round them blow. 
Drink life and fragrance as they flow. 



2agi 



CLASSICAL ENGLISH POETRY. 47lfeV# 

Now the neh stream of Music winds along, ; ^ooJ ^m^H 
Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, 3©H 

Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign : k!W 

Now rolling down the steep amain, 'w u xlM 

Headlong, impetuous, see it pour : tOB sisH 

The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the ro^j hiiA 

Oh ! Sovereign of the willing soul, ^ ^ saodW 

Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs. 
Enchanting shell ! the sullen Cares, 

And frantic Passions, hear thy soft control. ^ '^ 

On Thracia's hills the Lord of War 3 

Has curb'd the fury of his car, jr« S 

And dropt his thirsty lance, at thy command. - -^ 

Perching on the scepted hand 
Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king 
With ruffled plumes and flagging wing . :]T 

Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie !// 

The terror of his beak, and lightning of his eye. IW 

Thee the voice, the dance, obey, % 

Temper'd to thy warbled lay. ;;J| 

O'er Idalia's velvet-green ',lt=. 

The rosy-crowned Loves are seen, ^ 

On Cytherea's day 

With antic Sports, and blue-ey'd Pleasures, 
Frisking light in frolic measures ; 
Now pursuing, now retreating. 

Now in circling troops tliey meet : 
To brisk notes in cadence beating. 

Glance her many-twinkling feet. 
Slow-melting strains their Queen's approach declare: 

Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay 
With arts sublime, that float upon the air. 

In gliding state she wins her easy way : 1 

O'er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move 5 

The bloom of young Desire, and purple light of Love. 

Man's feeble race what ills await I 
Labour and Penury, the racks of Pain, 
Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train. 

And Death, sad refuge from the storms of Fate I '^ 
The fond complaint, my song, disprove, ^ - 

And justify the laws of Jove^ , 

Say, has he giv'n in vain the heav'nly Muse ? '^ 

Night and all her sickly dews, '^ 



Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry^//^ ,,.^, ^p., 

He gives to range the dreary sky : 

Till down the eastern cliffs afar 

Hyperion's march they spy, and glitf ring shafts ^H*^* 

In climes beyond the solar road, 
Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam. 
The Muse has broke the twilight gloom 

To cheer the sbiv'ring Natives' dull abode. 
And oft, beneath the od'rous shade 
Of Chili's boundless forests laid. 
She deigns to hear the savage Youth repeat 
In loose numbers wildly sweet 
Their feather-cinctur'd Chiefs, and dusky Loves. 
Her track, where'er the Goddess roves. 
Glory pursue, and generous Shame, 
Th' unconquerable Mind, and Freedom's holy flame. - 

Woods that wave o'er Delphi's steep. 
Isles that crown th' ^gean deep. 

Fields that cool Ilissus laves. 

Or where Masander's amber waves 
In lingering lab'rinths creep. 

How do your tuneful Echoes languish. 

Mute, but to the voice of Anguish ! 
W^here each old poetic mountain 

Inspiration breath'd around, 
Ev'ry shade and hallow'd fountain 

Murmur'd deep a solemn sound : 
Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour. 

Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. 
Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power, 

And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. 
When Latium had her lofty spirit lost. 
They sought, oh Albion ! next, thy sea-encircled coast. 

Far from the sun and summer-gale. 
In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid. 
What time, where lucid Avon stray'd. 

To him the mighty Mother did unveil 
Her awful face : the dauntless Child 
Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smil'd. 
This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear 
Richly paint the vernal year : 
Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy ! 
This can unlock the gates of Joy ; 



i 



CLAI|SiaA|i ENGLISH POETRY. g^ 

Of Horror that, and thrilling Fears, ?Jo9cr8 tsH 

Or ope the sacred source of sympatheti<| ^J^^l^,]^,^, ^1^ 

Nor second He that rode sublime * oAi nv/ob ifiT 
Upon the seraph- wings of Ecstacyjj li ^tism gVieiiaqvIl 
The secrets of th' Abyss to spy, f,,,,.^-^;.! pc,,n^h< ffl 

He pass'd the flaming bounds of Place arid Ifm 
The living Throne, the sapphire blaze, « 

Where Angels tremble while they gaze. 
He saw ; but, blasted with excess of light, 
Clos'd his eyes in endless night. 
Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car. 
Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear 
Two Coursers of ethereal race, [[pace. 

With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long-resounding 

Hark, his hands the lyre explore ! 
Bright-eye'd Fancy, hovering o'er. 
Scatters from her pictur'd um 
Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. 
But ah 1 'tis heard no more. 

Oh ! Lyre divine, what daring spirit 
Wakes thee now ? Tho' he inherit 
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion. 

That the Theban Eagle bear. 
Sailing with supreme dominion 

Thro' the azure deep of air : 
Yet oft before his infant eyes would run 

Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray 
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the Sun : 

Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way 
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate. 
Beneath the Good how far ! — but far above the Great. 

GRAr. 



THE END. 






F t-a i 



CONTENTS. 



The Violet ... 

To the Cuckoo 

The Narcissus 

Youth 

To a little Girl 

To a Redbreast ... 

The common Lot 

Day: a Pastoral. Morning 

■ Noon 

■ ' Evening 

The Ant, or Emmet 

The Drum , 

The Dying Kid 

Providence 

The Wish 

Virtue and Ornament 

Reflections 

Pleasures of Sensibiiity 

To the feathered Race 

Ignorance of Man 

Rural Life 

The Dying Christian to his soul 

False Greatness 

Omnipotence 

Divine Grace 

The Universal Prayer 

Gratitude 

Hope and Fear 

Verses, supposed to have been written by 
Alex. Selkirk, during his solitary abode 
in the island of Juan Fernandez 

The Solar System 

The Field of Battle 

True "Wisdom 

Ode on the Spring 

Lines from Seneca 

The Hermitage ... ... .,. 

The Boy and the Rainbow- 
Charity Schools 

The Rose 

Life . 

The Hamlet ... 

The Winter Nosegay 

The Young Lady and the Looking-glass 

The Character of Lelius ... 





Pag? 


... Cunningham 


1 


... Logan 


ib. 


... Cunningham 


.§1 


... Anon. 




... Coiion 


' '^^■ 


... Langhome 


'"^- 


... Montgomery 


lb} 


... Cunningham 


6 


... Ditto 


7^ 


... Ditto 


8 


... Waits 


9 


... Scott 


ib. 


... Shenstone 


lU 


... Addison 


U 


... Merrick 


12 


... Fordyce 


ib> 


... Robinson 


1? 


... H. More 


15 


... Graves 


ib. 


... Merrick 


17 


... Fope 


ib. 


... Ditto 


18 


... Waits 


ib. 


... Addison 


19 


... Dry den 


20 


... Pope 

... Addison 


21 


22 


... Johnson 
by 


24 


de 

... Cowper 


ib. 


... Barbauld 


26 


... Penrose 


27 


... Logan 


29 


... Gray 


ib. 


... Polwhele 


31 


... Spenser 


ib. 


... Wilkie 


32 


... Yearsley 


33 


... Cowper 


3i 


... Spenser 


ib. 


... War ton 


35 


... Cowper 


36 


iss Wilkie 


37 


... Pratt 


38 



CONTENTS. 

Farewell to Life 

The Raven • 

To a Snow-Drop 

The Muse ; or. Poetical Enthusiasm ... 
The Influence of Hope 

Childhood ... ".' 

The Curate 

On a Shadow 

Human Frailty ... 

The Debtor 

The Patriot and Warrior 

The Bee Flower 

The Atheist and the Acorn 

The Moralist 

Theron; or. The Praise of Rural Life ... 

Inscription in a Hermitage 

Remembrances 

The Plt-asant Evening ... 

The Tempestuous Evening , 

Man made to Mourn 

The Messiah .. 

Tlie Negro's Complaint 

Social AtK-ctions indelible 

Edwin and Angelina. A Ballad 
Mental la.provemient «.. 

Ode to Wisdom 

Ossian's Hymn to the Sun 

Ode to the Giow-Worm 

A Botany Bay Eclogue 

Early Impressions 

Happint'ss 

The British Poets from Chaucer to Johnson 

On the Death of Lady Coventry 

Elegy to the Memory of an unfortunateLady 

Memory .. 

A Comparison 

To a youijg Gentleman leaving the Cni- 

versity 

An Ode ... 

Life 

Elegy 

Adam's Morning Hymn 

The Hermit ... 

The Slave Trade 

The worst of Ills 

Ode to Indifference ... ... 

The African 

To Prosperity ... .^^ai^J, e/o-.i 
Qn the Ocean ... ..;- . ... „. 



Bruce 
Cowper 
Langhorne 
Scott ■ 
Campbell 
Scott 
Penrose 
Pitt 
Cowper 
Moore 
Cowper 
Lang-home 
Watts 
Robinson 
Scott 
Warton 
Logan 
Scott 
Ditto 
Burns 
Pope 
Cowper 
Pratt 
Goldsmith 
Southey 
Carter 
Logan 
Wolcott 
Southey 
Rogers 
Pope 

Lady Manners 
Ma^on 
Pope 
Rogers 
Cowper 

Mason 

Jones 

Robinson 

Shenstone 

Milton 

Beattie 

Monigomor 

Robinson 

Pennant 

Bovjles 

Carter 

Byron 



475 

Page 
3y 



40 
41 

42 
43 
45 
ib. 
47 
43 

ib. 

49 

50 

59 

53 

ib. 

55 

5e 

57 

58 

ib. 

CO 

6% 

64 

ib. 

68 

69 

7a 

73 

ih. 

74: 

75"; 

77 

81 

84 

86 

ib. 

ib. 
8S 
ib. 
;S9 
PSg 
93 
94 
&5 
96 
ST 
90 



M 



CONTENTS. 



Modern Greece ... ... Bi/ron 

Ode to Good-Nature ... Smart 

To Friendship Scott 

On Retirement Whatlcy 

The Tulip and the Myrtle Langhorne 

:The Dead ... ... ... ... Ditto 

The Seasons. Spring ... ■ Brei'cwood 

— • Summer ... ... ... Ditto 

^ Autumn ... Ditto 

=-. Winter Ditto 

Youth entering on the World Bidlake 

The Violet and the Pansy ... ... Langkot-ne 

Flora and the Boy Anon. 

The Mouse's Petition Sarbauld 

To a Friend in Affliction .Collier 

Pious Memory Dodd 

The Indian Philosophers Watts 

Nosegay of "Wild Flowers Smith 

The Bards of Britain ... Black ei 

The Nightingale and Glow- Worm ... Moore 
Ode to Youth ... ... ... ... Lovibond 

Friendship Penrose 

Death of a Good Man ... Dermody 

On hearing Music ... Scott 

Care and Generosity ... Smart 

The Slave Anon. 

For the Door of a Study ... , ... Langhorne 

Spring: an Ode Johnson 

Midsummer: an Ode Ditto 

Autumn: an Ode ... Ditto 

Winter: an Ode ... Ditto 

The Evening Primrose ... Langhorn^ 

The Orphan Boy Opie 

Ode to May ... West 

The Cotter's Saturday Night Burns 

Lubin and his Dog Tray Anon. 

A Contemplation on Night Gay 

The Owl and the Glow- Worm. A Fable Ditto 

The Poet and the Rose ... Ditto 

Pleasures of a Forest ... ... ... Gishorne 

To the rising Sun ... ... ... Langhorne 

Eternity ... ... ... Gay 

A Father's Advice to his Son Cowper 

A Summer Evening r... .Watts 

"New Year's Day ... ... ... Fawcett 

Death and War ... ... ... ... Porteus 

Happiness consists in the Practice of Virtue Pope 

On the Deity Barbauld 

The Choice of Hercules ... ... Lowth 

The Falling Leaf .i. Horni 



[3 J- el -^^ 



Page 
101 
ib. 
102 
104 
106 
108 
108 
109 
110 
111 
112 
133 
115 
IIG 

iir 

119 
120 
122 
123 
129 
130 
131 
132 

ib. 
13? 
134 
136 

ib. 
137 
138 
139 
140 
142 
143 
144 
148 
151 
152 
153 
154 
155 
15S 
157 
159 
160 

ib. 
162 
164 

ib. 
171 



CONTENTS. 



477 



lafe ... ... . 

TUhe Laurel and the Reed , 

Lessons of Wisdom 

Prospect of Society 

Domestic Happiness 

English Liberty 

Picture of a Village Life 

The Bard: 4n Ode 

Peace 

Hassan: or, the Camel Driver 

Winter hi the Arctic Circle 

Contentment ... ••?. ••• . . • 

Progress of Time . 

Cooper's Hill 

Appeal in favour of the Poor 

Keputation ... 

Hymn on Solitude 

Ode to Pity 

The Splendid Shilling .... 

The Morning Lark , 

Search of Happiness in Foreign Climes 

Character of Women . ' .,. 

The Golden Verses of Pythago';as 

The Butterfly's Ball and the Grasshop 
per's Feast ... 

Content 

A Winter Night 

Invocation to the God of Nature 

The English Poets 

A Storm of Thunder and Lightning 

To Peace 

TheRose-Bud 

An Ode .. 

To-Morrow 

Conjugal Felicity 

The Pursuit of Happiness 

The Distinction of Ages 

The Patriot .. 

, An Hymn ... .: 

. Xove of Praise 

; The Beggar's Petition .. 

An Hyrhn .1. 

The philosopher's Stone ... 

Scenes of Childhood , 

^ Earth and. Heaven , 

,_ The Happy Man 
/' Invocation to Peace 

True Learning 
■/To the Moon 
'; Ode to Le^^eji-g^ater 



Cotton: . 

Langhorne 

Armstrong 

Goldsmith 

Bishop 

Cow per 

Goldsmith 

Gray 



178 
180 
182 
18-1 
185 
189 



.. H.M. Williams 192 
,. Collins 
.. Fhillips 
.. Pamell 

... ^.ye 

.. Denham 
.. Pratt 
.. Cunningham 
.. Thomson 
.. Collins 
.. Phillips 
.. Thomson 
Hastings 
... Ledyard 
,.. Howe 



^ipr-^^to^rff^^dd 



Roscoe 
Cunningham 
Burns 
Thomson 
Addison 
C?'irie 
Collins 
Broome 
Addison 
Cotton 
Thomson 
Carter 
Hill 

. Walter Scott 
AddL%on 
Akenside 
Moss 
Addison 
Pratt 
Coleridge 
Watts 
Hill 
Cowper 
Waits . 
Smith 
SmQll^\t, 



ijio: 



193 
US 
196 
198 
199 
208 

ib. 
ia09 
210 
211 
214: 

ib. 
216 
217 

221 
222 
223 
225 
226 
229 
230 
2S1 
232 

ib. 
233 
235 
236 

ib. 
237 
238 
239 
2-iO 
241 

243 
244 
245 

ib. 
247 

vib. 



m 



CONTENTS. 



To a Friend Skenstone 

On a present of three Roses Thomson 

True Wisdom , * Watis 

Grongar Hill Di/er 

To Night Smith 

Freedom Watis 

On a Tear ... Rogers 

The Garden Window mil 

Written in the Holy Bible Thomson 

True Riches Watts 

The Question Answered ,. Crabbe 

The Grave Blair 

Home ... ... ... ... ... Mogers 

The Wish Ditto 

Hymn to Humanity Langhome 

Wonders of the Creation in minute Objects Thomson 

To Spring ... Smith 

Song ... Shenstone 

Lesson of Humifity Thomson 

Life ... ... ... ... ... Shenstone 

First of December Southey 

First of January Ditto 

Health: an Eclogue Parnell 

Dispute between Nose and Eyes ... Cowper 

Folly of Pride founded on high Birth ... Shenstone 
Chelsea and Greenwich Hospitals ... Rogers 

Ode to Content Rarbauld 

May Morning 3Iilton 

The Shortness of Man's Life Cowley 

Hymn for Morning Parnell 

Eternal Providence Langhome 

John Gilpin Cowper 

Dover Cliffs Bowles 

The World a Stage Shakespeare 

The Happy Man Thomson 

Cato's Soliloquy Addison 

Domestic Peace ... Coleridge 

On Sleep Shakespeare 

Oration of Mark Antony over the Body of 

Cessar Shakespeare 

Invitation to a Friend at Court ... Pitt 

On a Country Life Thomson 

On Dreams Shakespeare 

A Song for St. Cecilia's Day Dryden 

An Ode for St. Cecilia's Day Addison 

Ode on St. Cecilia's Day Pope 

Alexander's Feast " Dryden 

Charity Bowles 

London Johnson 

Life , Hawksworth 



Page 
g48 
249 
250 
251 

ifa. 
256 
257 
258 

ib. 
260 

ib. 
263 
264. 

ib. 
266 
269 
270 

ib. 
272 
273 
274 
276 
278 
279 
281 
282 
283 
28* 

ib. 
285 
287 
293 

ib. 
294 
295 
296 



2Dr 
298 
299 
302 
303 
304 
306 
309 
313 
ib. 
319 



CONTENTS. 




47P 


:W'^- 




1 


P?^ 


The Prison 


.##• 


^ ■Darwin 


321 


Hymn to Science 


,^zo)I 


'^Akenside 


ib. 


The Butterfly 


... 


Rogers 


324 


The Fire-side 


... 


'] Cotton 


ib. 


The Happy Villager 


... 


Langhorne 


326 


To my Soul 


..-. 


\\\ Harte 


S27 


The Vanity of Human Wishes 




Johnson 


328 


The Last Minstrel 


... 


\[\ Walter Scott 


336 


Hymn for Noon 


... 


Parnell 


33T 


Hymn for Evening 


... 


','.'. Ditto 


338 


Idleness 


..■. 


Smart 


339 


To the Bee 


... 


[[[ Wolcott 


340 


Description of a Ram 


... 


Wordstvorth 


ib. 


To a Friend 


... 


'" Month Mag. 


ib. 


The Blind Beggar 


... 


;;; woicou 


343 


The Muffled Drum 


... 


., Mayne 


345 


The Way to Happiness ^ 


... 


*., Parnell 


346 


Friendship, Love, and Truth 


,. 


... Montgomery 


347 


Elegy on a Blackbird 


«.. 


... Jago 


34S 


The Dying Bard 


... 


... Walter Scott 


350 


Evening , 


... 


... Month Mag 


ib. 


On a distant View of England 




... Bowles 


351 


Resignation 


... 


... Chatierion 


ib. 


Truth, Honour, Honesty 


... 


... Hughes 


352 


On Melancholy 


... 


... A^eele 


353 


Blindness 


... 


... Rushion 


354 


To a Lady, on the Language of Birds 


Shensione 


ib. 


The Shepherd 

The Garland 


... 


... Anon. 


355 


... 


... Prior 


357 


A Garden 


... 


... Hughes 


■ 358 


The Christian Sabbath ... 


... 


... Graham 


350 


The Shepherd and the Philosopher 


... Gay 


ib. 


Dirge in Cymbeline 


... 


... Collins 


mi 


Hymn to Light 


... 


... Cowley 


362 


V^Tar 




... H. More 


3G5 


Written for a Beggar 


... 


... Mallet 


ib. 


On Rural Sports 


... 


... Lovibond 


366- 


Inscription on a Rural Seat 


... 


... Shens one 


368 


The Chamelion 


... 


... Mertick 


369 


The Insect Race 


... 


... Bar haul d 


371 


To Cynthia 


... 


... B. Jonson 


ib. 


Charity , 


... 


... Prior 


372 


An Image of Pleasure 


... 


... Hughes 


373 


Domestic Pleasures 


... 


... Month. Mag 


374 


The Maniac of Victory 


... 


... Fawcett 


376 


Hymn to the Morning 


... 


... Yalden 


377 


The Shortness of Life, and Uncertainty of 




Riches 


... 


... Cowley 


379 


The Goldfinches: an Elegy 


... 


... Jago 


380 


Elegy on Sir William Jones 


... 


... Maurice 


382 



480 CONTENTS* 

Page 

The Wish Green 383 

Stanzas written at Sea .... .... ...Anon. 386 

A Mother's Grave ... Amphldt 387 

Shortness of Life ... Cowper 388 

The Spirit of Music T.Moore ib. 

Old Cicely Dr. Wolcott 300 

Hymn to the Brave ... Collins 391 

Epistle to a Young Gentleman, on his 

leaving Eton School ... - ... Roberts 392 

John Barleycorn Burns 393 

Against Indolence Davids 395 

The Man of Ross ... ... ...Pope 397 

True Value of Life H. More 398 

Hymn to Adversity ... .... ... -Grai/ 399 

The Hare and the Tortoise. A Fable Lhr/d 400 

The Creator .... ... Thomson 4-02 

Ode on a distant Prospect of Eton College Grai/ 405 

The Balloon Darimn 407 

The Youth and the Philosopher. A Fable Whitehead 408 

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Heaven ... ... Campbell 411 

To Fancy • ... ... ... ... Warton ib. 

Jllegy written in a Country Church-yard Gray 415 

The Night-Piece ... Cotton 418 

The Dying Christian ... ... ... Montgomery 420 

Edwin and Emma ... Mallet 421 

The Drowning Fly ... Anon. 423 

The Hermit . ... ... ... ... Parnell 424 

The British Isles Thomson 430 

Ode to Education Roseoe 434 

The Dying Horse ... ... .. Blacket 437 

Sonnet on the departure of the Nightingale 'Smith 439 

Retirement Beattie 440 

The Three Warnings ... ... Thrale 442 

The Story of Lavinia Thomson 444 

L' Allegro Milton , 448 

II Penseroso ... ... ... ... Milton 452 

War ... ... e.. ... ... Cowper 456 

Cruelty to Animals ... Cowper 458 

The Passions ...Collins 459 

The Four Ages of the World ^ ... Dryden 462 

English Loyalty Cowper 464 

The Contented Philosopher ... ... Cunningham 465 

The Praise of Philosophy . . Beattie 467 

Description of a Parish Poor-house ... Crabbe 469 

The Progress of Poesy ... Gray 47C 



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